Author's Note: Hi there! I hope you had a wonderful Christmas or if you didn't celebrate that, then I hope you had a wonderful holiday. So, this story is coming to an end. I'm finishing up all the non-holiday related prompts and my goal is to be done by New Year's, but I'm not sure if that will happen. Anyways, thank you all for sticking around!

So, today's prompt was something that I really struggled with. It's from putmoneyinthypurse who asked for, "While the boys are still teens, John hauls off when Dean's out of the house and disciplines Sam physically. I'm not talking a simple punch – I'm dreaming of a prolonged punishment with a belt or other implement that leaves Sam literally unable to stand. Bonus points till the end of time if: the punishment is for Sam's endangering Dean on a hunt, and Sam and Dean have a little spat, culminating in Dean storming out, after which John comes in and proceeds to punish Sam, and Sam submits because he feels he does deserve punishment for almost letting Dean get hurt. When Dean returns, he's appalled, horrified – what he does to John is up to you – and THEN, I'm kind of dreaming of some shameless schmoop where Sam believes he's got his just desserts and Dean, in between tending his wounds and being a Mom, makes him understand just how far off the mark he is." So, this prompt—for me anyways—borders on M. I have decided to do it, but I won't be going into detail with John's attack on Sam simply because it's not something I'm comfortable writing. That being said, THIS CHAPTER DEALS HEAVILY WITH THE ABUSE OF A CHILD. If this makes you uncomfortable, please don't read this chapter. You have been warned. Anyways, Sam here is 14 and Dean is 19. Thanks for the prompt! Please enjoy!

Don't get Dean wrong, he loves his little brother—there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for that kid—but sometimes, Sam gets on his nerves. It's normal—they are brothers after all. Sometimes though, he wants nothing more than to get his little brother stop bitching about whatever hunt they're on and just be quiet. He gets it though; he understands that hunting isn't Sam's favorite thing; however, it's a necessary evil. It's what they were trained to do and until they get the demon that killed their mother, it's all they are going to do.

The sooner Sam knows that the better.

And yeah, so what if he left the room to clear his head? It wasn't like he was running away from a fight. Rather, he didn't want to hurl out angry words that couldn't be taken back. That was a pastime reserved for Sam and their father. Though, if Dean thought about it, the two of them hadn't been going at each other for quite awhile ever since that hunt back in Phoenix . . .

He shakes his head, getting rid of the bad memories of a hunt that had gone so completely wrong that it had almost cost him his life. No, there was no point on dwelling onto why Sam and John weren't fighting. It was a blessing in disguise—it was a good thing.

I want to be normal Dean!

Dean releases a sigh, letting some of the anger and tension out with him. His fights with Sam usually started over something small—laundry, cleaning the guns, etc.—only to snowball into something big that always circled back to how Sam hated hunting. Sam wanted to like everyone else—go to college, get a degree, marry a girl, have kids and basically live the American dream—and yes, Dean understood why he wanted that, but Sam had to understand that hunting was his life. He couldn't get out of it. It was in his blood.

"Okay," Dean whispers, head clear and temper in check. "Time to go." In his mad dash away from the motel, Dean had managed to get into town and it will take him a good 20 minutes to get back to his baby brother, which is good. It might give Sam some time to clear his head. "Let's go."

When Dean steps into the motel room, he does a double take. His eyes are wide and his mouth has fallen open from shock at the sight that greets him. His mind can't process this and so Dean stands in the doorway and stares.

He stares at his father who has pushed Sam against the wall. He stares at Sam who is bleeding from his lip and has the beginnings of a black eye as well as a sluggish cut above his eyebrow. He stares at his father who is holding Sam clearly against his will and sees the matching blood on his fist—Sam's blood.

"D'n." Sam wheezes.

And then all hell breaks loose.

With a feral growl, Dean flings himself at his father who, too stunned to do anything else, drops Sam. Sam whimpers and with a strength Dean didn't know he had, he's dragging John away and pushing him to the other side of the room. Firmly planted in front of Sam now—defending his little brother—the older Winchester raises his fists and it collides with his father's face. John stumbles back, anger flashing in his eyes, but he makes no move towards Sam, perhaps sensing that would be a fatal mistake.

"Stay the fuck away from him!" Dean hisses, prepared to beat his father to a pulp if it means protecting Sam.

"Dean, you don't understand—" John's tone is calm and his hands are up in some sort of placating way.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" He shoots a glance to his baby brother, who has curled into the fetal position and is wincing from all the pain. It ramps Dean's anger up even more.

No one attacked Sam and got away with it.

No one.

"He has to learn, Dean," John says with a sigh, like he's explaining things to a toddler. "If he won't listen to reason, then you have to use force."

"Force?" Dean echoes, completely taken aback. "You think beating up Sam was going to teach him a lesson? That's what this is about—?"

"It did teach him a lesson," John replies exasperatedly. "Sam's been doing better on hunts. He's been more obedient." It's sickening to hear his father—the one person he looked up to—to speak this way.

"Christo."

No reaction; Dean's heart sinks a little further.

"Son—" Before he even realizes it, Dean's grabbed his father by the collar of his jacket and has slammed him up against the wall.

"Don't you dare call me that again," He growls, voice dripping with venom and murderous intent. "Get out of here." He lets go of John, who appears to be completely confused.

"Dean—"

"Get out!" He hisses, eyes flashing with fury. "And if you come anyway near Sam again, I will kill you."

And he knows in that minute that the threat is true. He would kill to protect Sam, no matter what the threat is. If that meant taking out his father, well then, so be it. John looks like he's about to speak, but he simply grabs his duffel and heads out. The truck rumbles outside and Dean waits until he can no longer hear it before he turns to his broken brother crumpled on the floor. "Sammy?"

"Dean." He whimpers, before his face contorts with pain and tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

"S'okay, Sam," Dean soothes as his brother wraps his arms around him. "I've got you."

And while he holds his crying brother, Dean tries to figure out what the hell they are supposed to do now.

"Pastor Jim?" He's whispering because Sam just cried himself to sleep and yeah, Dean is going to have to wake him back up to look at those wounds, but for the moment—for this one-second—Sam deserves some peace. Besides, Dean still has no clue what he should do. Their dad had always been the one to call the shots and Dean had been happy to go along with that.

But John had hurt Sam.

They were on their own now.

"Dean?" The worried friend on the other end of the line tells him otherwise and he's grateful that they still have people that they can trust. "Are you hurt? Is Sam okay?"

And despite how strong he was trying to be in front of Sam, his façade crumbles, because none of this is okay. Sam is hurt because of their dad and Dean, for the first time, doesn't know what to do now. Tears prick at his eyes and he can hear his voice breaking as he replies,

"We need your help," He sucks a breath in. "Dad hurt Sam."

"What? Was he—?"

"No," Dean hisses, broken by this fact. "He just hurt Sam. We need help."

"Bobby's closer by you," Jim informs him calmly, though Dean knows he can sense how fragile Dean is right now. "I'll have him get to you within a half an hour. I can be there in two." A pause as Dean digests the info. "And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"It's going to be okay, son."

Dean just chuckles bitterly before hanging up the phone.

He forces himself to pull his act together before he wakes Sam. Murky hazel eyes—tinged with fear, Dean notes sadly—stare up at him. Dean plasters a sugary smile on his face, hoping Sam won't see past his crumbling façade.

"C'mon, Sammy," He coaxes. "Let me take a look at you." Sam sits up, wincing and Dean helps him into the bathroom. Under the dim light, he gently assesses his little brother's condition.

"Dean—"

"Pastor Jim and Bobby are on their way," He wrings out a washcloth and then gently dabs at the cut above Sam's eyebrow. His little brother hisses in pain and Dean frowns, but keeps going. "We're going to figure this out together, Sam."

Silence reigns as Dean gets the cuts cleaned and then places a small piece of gauze above the eyebrow. The black eye is already getting darker and the fury that Dean had fought to keep under check flares up once more. His hands ghost over Sam, checking for any other injuries and stop when Sam whimpers. Lifting up Sam's shirt, Dean feels like all the air has been sucked out the room. He pales and shakes his head, once again unable to process what he's seeing.

"Dean, I—" Sam looks away guiltily.

"How long?" Dean whispers, just starting at the assortment of bruises that covers Sam's chest. Some are older and some are just beginning to take shape—all make Dean sick to his stomach. There's the clear impression of a belt having hit Sam's skin and it makes Dean sick.

"Ever since that hunt in Phoenix."

"A month." Dean blanches, as the room spins around him. A month Sam has been being beaten up with their father and Dean didn't know, hell Dean wasn't even here to stop it.

"It wasn't your fault," Sam explains, placing a hand on his brother's arm and squeezing it gently. "Dean, it was mine—"

"Sam, don't—" Because he doesn't think he can handle anymore. He's about to break as it is.

"Listen," Sam urges and Dean doesn't have the heart to ignore him. "You got hurt in Phoenix because I didn't have your back—"

"Is that what Dad told you?" Dean hisses. "Sam, I got hurt because I wasn't paying attention to where the Wendigo had gone—"

"Because you were busy looking after me." Sam completes guiltily. "You got hurt and Dad thought that I needed to learn a lesson." Tears fill up those hazel eyes that could make Dean do anything.

"Sam, you don't—" But he can't finish his sentence because he's crying now too. This is so screwed up. Their dad had hurt Sam—not a demon or a spirit, but their living and breathing father. And why? Because he felt like Sam hadn't been watching Dean's back? That hadn't been farther from the truth!

"I deserved it, Dean." Sam cries. "Cause I got you hurt." He sobbing now and Dean is furiously trying to wipe his own tears away, but they just keep coming. So, he does the only thing he can think to do, he pulls Sam towards him and holds onto him. This is how they speak—they have never needed words to make things right.

That doesn't mean Dean won't speak them though.

It just means that for now, holding his little brother is the best thing for him.

Round two of dealing with Sam's wounds is still as painful as it was the first time for Dean, but he has his emotions in check. After checking to make sure that all of Sam's ribs are intact—thank God for that—he applies ice in small amounts to try and help reduce the swelling in some of them. Sam winces at the cold, but other than that, says nothing.

"You didn't deserve this," Dean tells him calmly. "You didn't cause me to get hurt on that hunt and you sure as hell didn't need to be taught a lesson."

"Dean—" He holds up a hand, asking for silence, which Sam thankfully grants.

"Listen to me," He makes sure Sam's eyes are locked onto his. "You can stop blaming yourself, okay? None of this was your fault. And you sure as hell didn't deserve a beating." Sam nods, but doesn't seem convinced. "I mean it, Sammy. Whatever Dad did to you, it was wrong. Whatever he told you wasn't true. No one deserves to be treated like this ever."

"But Dean—"

"I'm not finished," He says with a small smirk, his first attempt at levity. "Sam, you're my geek brother. I wouldn't trade you for anyone else, you hear me?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He grins, feeling some of the earlier despair leave him. "You and me, we're gonna get through this."

"Us against the world?" Sam questions, eyes full of worry.

"Us against the world." Dean confirms.

Sam smiles—Dean feels like it might be the best thing he's ever seen in his life.

"What are we going to do now?" It's a good question and one that Dean has been pondering for quite awhile. "Are we going to go back to—?"

"No." Dean answers quickly. He and Sam will never be going back to John—at least not anytime in the remote future. The trust has been broken between them and Dean can't foresee it ever being rebuilt. "It'll be okay."

"I know." Sam whispers.

"Good."

Silence. Dean continues to tend all the injuries. It makes him sick inside, but it needs to be done. Besides, Sam's safe now. He'll be okay.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't trade you either."

"Course not, Sammy," Dean retorts. "Who else would teach you how to pick up chicks?" He holds his breath and waits while the comment registers in his little brother's mind.

Then, Sam laughs and Dean doesn't know why, but he laughs too.

Their life has become incredibly screwed up, but as long as they've got each other, Dean knows they can handle it.

With Sam by his side, Dean can take on whatever the world wants to throw at them.

Author's Note: There you go! I actually loved how this chapter came out even though I had to alter the prompt a little bit for me to feel comfortable doing it. Still, I hope you all enjoyed! Please review!