A/N Well, you knew there had to be a reckoning some time.

A shorter chapter, again, but it felt like a good place to stop. And don't worry, we'll get to Sammy's secrets soon enough!

Thanks to kandilyn, superobes, khalya for commenting on Chapter 5.

As always, I own nothing.

CHAPTER 6

Dean looked up with practiced nonchalance as his Dad burst into the little cabin. Immediately, the great room felt smaller, John Winchester's very essence taking up space in a way Dean had never known anyone else to do.

"Hey, Dad," Dean greeted him evenly.

"Dean." John strode purposefully down the hall, looked into the blood-spattered bathroom, and turned back to face his eldest. "Where is he?"

No emotion, Dean noticed, and sat up on the couch, tensing slightly. He wanted to say out or gone or beyond your reach, you heartless bastard, but Dad could smell a lie, so he simply said "Upstairs. Sleeping it off."

John started towards the stairs, his step deliberate and even.

So he was sober, then, Dean figured. Not good. Dad drunk was angry and often violently unpredictable. Dad sober was…deadly, when he wanted to be.

After seeing what he'd already done to Sammy, Dean had no doubt that he wanted to be.

Dean stood up from the couch and, with a speed and grace that would probably surprise someone who didn't know him well, moved between John and the ladder, watching his father.

"Dean. Step aside. I need to see Sam."

Dean met his father's gaze, his face a picture of calm determination that belied his racing heart. "You've seen him enough."

"Dean," John kept his voice quiet but firm, the tone of a commander speaking to his most trusted lieutenant. "Step aside."

"No."

"Dean! I said…"

"Oh, I heard you. The answer is still no."

John stopped a foot or so in front of his beloved son, and sighed. It was his own fault, he figured. For the first 10 years of Sammy's life, he'd drilled into Dean that he had to protect the younger boy, drilled it in so hard, it had become practically the core of the eldest son's entire personality.

"Dean," John tried again, keeping his tone reasonable, almost cajoling. "I know you feel like you have to protect him, but there are things you don't know about the boy."

"I know all I need to," Dean said evenly. "I know he's my brother. I know he's been hurt enough today. And I know his name is Sam, not 'boy'," he added, his voice a whip crack in the air that made John's eyebrows raise in unpleasant surprise.

"You need to know, Dean. He's not what you think. I know he's my son, but he's not the innocent we thought him to be."

"That we thought him to be?" Dean scoffed. "Been a long time since you thought my brother was an innocent, hasn't it?"

"Dean. Son," John tried again, and missed the stiffening of Dean's spine and the cold glimmer in his eyes at the appellation. "You need to know…the Yellow Eyed Demon, the thing that killed your mother…Sammy, he's…"

"Don't call him that," Dean spat. John frowned in confusion, and Dean coldly clarified. "Sammy. Don't you call him Sammy, like you care. Like you love him. Not after what you did."

John nodded. "I can understand that you're upset," he admitted, "but if you just let me explain…."

"I've had my explanation, thanks."

"You can't trust anything that boy says," John shook his head, sadly. "He's been contaminated, Dean. Maybe even controlled. He's been marked, Dean. He's been turned. He's barely even human now!"

Dean just stared angrily.

With a sigh, John moved to his right, clearly intent on getting past Dean to the stairs.

Dean took two steps backwards, until he felt the back of the ladder against his legs.

"Get out of my way, Dean," John said, his voice taking on a quiet sort of tension that Dean typically heard when they were in the middle of a Hunt. A tone his Dad had never once done used when addressing either of his boys.

Until now.

"No."

John reached towards the boy, intending to use his greater height, experience and strength to physically move him aside, only to move back, startled, when Dean — his own son — suddenly pulled his gun out of the waistband at the back of his jeans.

"No," Dean repeated, quietly, firmly, his voice going slightly deeper with determination and — if he were honest with himself — a shit ton of stress and fear. But the gun he pointed at his Dad's chest was level, and his hands didn't shake in the slightest.

They never did, when Sammy's safety was at stake.

"Put. The gun. Down," John said firmly.

Dean shifted his stance, and made sure that Dad saw him tightening his grip on the gun, turning off the grip safety.

"That was an ORDER, Dean!" John snapped. "Put the fucking gun down!"

Dean raised an eyebrow and flipped the thumb safety off, too. "I don't think so, Dad."

"You don't know what you're doing," John shook his head, trying to address his son calmly. "I know it's hard to accept, son, but that…person…upstairs isn't your brother any more. I hate to have to say it to you, Dean, but that's not Sammy…"

"SAM," Dean corrected, forcing the word out between clenched teeth.

"Sam," John nodded, acquiescing to his son's correction. "That's not who's up there," he repeated, pointing at the loft above. "He's a demon, Dean. He's incredibly dangerous, and, as much as it hurts me, he needs to be put down."

"Hurts you?" Dean repeated, amazement reflected clearly in his voice. "Hurts you? After what you did — to your own son — you don't have any right to talk about anything hurting. YOU!"

"You have to listen to me, Dean!" John yelled. "He's going to bring about the end of the world!"

Dean shook his head, slowly. "No. Not while he's with me. Never while he's with me."

"He'll kill you, Dean. Can't you see that?" John asked, sounding more desperate than Dean had ever heard his Dad sound before. "I can't lose you, Dean. You're my son. I couldn't bear it."

"But you could lose Sam?" Dean challenged. "You could kill Sam? He's your son too, Dad."

"No," John denied without hesitation. "He hasn't been my son — or your brother — since Mary died. He was contaminated that night, Dean. That Yellow-Eyed bastard fed him its blood, and he hasn't been our little Sammy since."

Dean bit his lip and shook his head again, breathing a small laugh. "You don't see it, do you? He's all Sam. It doesn't matter what he was fed. It only matters what he does. And Sammy — all he ever does is good. He helps people, just like we always say! The family business — Saving People. That's what Sammy does, and he does it with more…compassion…and… and…I don't know, grace…than you've ever shown anyone. Than I've ever shown anyone!"

"You forget the other part of the Family Business, Dean. Killing Monsters. And that…thing…upstairs, is a MONSTER. He needs to be put down, Dean. We cannot have a monster in this family, can't you see that?"

"Monster?" Dean repeated incredulously. "He's the best of us. And you are too…blind…and…and angry and just too full of hate to even see what he is. Or what you are. Because there is a Monster in this family, and it ain't Sammy."

John took a step forward, and Dean tightened his finger on the trigger, releasing the third and final safety on his gun.

"Don't."

"You wouldn't kill me, Dean," John said confidently, and started to move forward.

"I don't want to kill you, Dad," Dean admitted, his voice shaking just for a moment. Then he shot his Dad a cocky grin as he shifted his aim down to John's left knee. "But I don't have to kill you to stop you, do I? And by the time you get out of the hospital, we'll be long gone. So why don't you just save us all a lot of hassle, and yourself a lot of pain, and find yourself something to hunt besides my baby brother."

"I can't do that, Dean," John said sadly. "I have a duty to correct this. I cannot allow Mary's son to destroy the world," he explained and took a step forward, jumping back as a bullet embedded itself in the floor, taking a tiny bit of leather off the toe of his left shoe on the way.

"That's the only warning shot you get," Dean said levelly. "Get out. You have ten minutes to pack your shit and get gone. And the next time you try to hurt my brother, in any way, I'm putting a bullet in you," he assured John, and shrugged. "I don't think I'll kill you," he admitted, his voice hard but calm, "but I'm not above taking out a knee or putting you in a wheelchair for the rest of your life. Not if it keeps Sammy safe. And frankly, Dad, if I'm near you a whole lot longer, after what you did today? I may not wait until our paths cross again."

John shook his head, sadly, and raised his hands in surrender. "He's already gotten to you," he sighed deeply. "I'll leave," he agreed, and turned back to his bedroom.

Dean stayed by the stairs while his father packed the few belongings he had into his duffle, keeping the gun lowered, but leaving all the safeties off, in case of any subterfuge or attack.

Dean wasn't the only Winchester who slept with a gun or knife under his pillow, after all.

John finished packing and came back out, two duffles zipped and slung over his shoulder. He kept his free hand raised as he approached Dean, and lowered it only to open his jacket and show Dean he was, at that moment, unarmed.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry I didn't realize what we were dealing with earlier. That I didn't protect you," John said quietly, sounding so defeated it actually hurt Dean's heart, even after all Dad had done. After all he wanted to do. "I'll find a way to save you, Dean, I promise," he added and gave a small, sad smile. "Maybe I'll even find a way to save Sam."

"We don't need saving," Dean assured him coldly. "At least, not after you leave. We're fine."

John shook his head and moved to the door, hesitating only for a second, to look over his shoulder at his remaining son. "I paid the cabin up to the end of next week," he reminded the boy. "I won't be back here, and I won't send anyone else, you have my word. You can stay if you like. I'll text you, sometimes, let you know where I am. That I'm alive. I'd appreciate your doing the same. I know you won't give me a location. Just…let me know you're not dead. Please," he added and Dean gave a curt nod.

He looked briefly at the loft behind Dean's back, then down at his son again.

"I love you, son," he said softly. "And I forgive you for this."

"I don't need your forgiveness," Dean told him quietly. "We don't need anything from you. Except for you to go."

John nodded sadly.

One deep breath, shaky with unshed tears…and he was gone.

######SPN#####

"Dean?"

Dean turned from his vigil standing at the window, where he'd been since Dad had driven off — he didn't actually know how long ago. He slipped his gun back into place at the small of his back, and looked up at his brother's bruised, battered face peering down at him from the loft above.

"Coming," Dean forced a smile and quickly climbed the ladder to join his brother on the floor of the loft.

For a moment or two, they just looked at each other, both trying to come to terms with what had happened between Dean and their Dad.

"You really pulled a gun on Dad," Sam said with amazement. "On DAD. And lived to talk about it!"

Dean laughed. "He's good, Sammy, but he ain't Superman — he can't outrun a bullet."

"Yeah, but you had the safeties on," Sam pointed out. He stared at Dean for a second, noticed the slight flush that made the freckles on his face fade out. "You did have the safeties on."

Dean shook his head. "No," he admitted. "And I made sure he knew it."

"Well, I heard you take the shot, but…I mean, you put them back on after, didn't you?"

Dean met Sammy's gaze calmly — more calmly than Sam was sure was actually appropriate, really, and if asked, Dean would probably agree with him. "I didn't turn the safeties on until I just put the gun away," he admitted, shaking his head in amazement. "I think that's a bridge burned," he added and shrugged.

"Dean…" Sammy said softly and reached his good right arm out to rest on Dean's shoulder. "That can't…I know that had to hurt. I know how you feel about Dad."

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he started to agree, then stopped and bit his lip. "He really was my hero," he admitted with tiny smile.

"Was?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah. I think the whole hero worship thing kinda ended when he said he had to put you down. Like you're a rabid dog, or something. I just,,.I…I can't. I just…I can't! I can't keep..honestly, I can't believe what the hell he was saying to me. And I mean, I know. You told me, but…Fuck. Hearing you tell me what he said and hearing him actually say it…turns out those are two different things. Not," he hastened to add, "that I didn't believe what you told me, it's just…"

"Yeah, I know," Sam assured him. "I…even after today, when I heard him say that to you…. I mean, I know he hates me; like I said, he blames me for Mom, but…Somehow, you're right. When he said it just to me, while he was hitting me, that was one thing, you know? But to say it to you. To have him just stand there, so calm, and tell you, he…I don't know. It's more real, now."

"Yeah," Dean agreed and ran a hand over his short cropped hair. "Everything's a little more real, now."

They lapsed into silence, just two brothers sitting quietly in a cabin by the river.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"What now?"

Dean turned his attention back to his little brother. "What?"

"What do we do now? I mean, I don't think he'll come back," Sam admitted. "He said he wouldn't."

"Yeah, he did," Dean agreed. "And face it, for all his many faults, the man keeps his word."

"Yeah," Sam chuckled. "Unfortunately, one of the words he just gave you is that he's going to kill me."

"I'll never let that happen, Sammy," Dean said and reached out to put his hand on the nape of his baby brother's neck. "I'll never let anything hurt you. Not even Dad. Never again."

"I know," Sam gave Dean his full-watt smile, dimples and all, and something wound tightly around Dean's heart loosened just a little. "But…for right now…What do we do? Are…are we going to stay? I mean, until next week? Or…what do we do?"

Dean pulled back and crossed his arms, tipping his head back to look at the skylight above them, as if the answer were painted in the twilight sky above.

"I don't think so," he admitted.

Sam nodded and waited. Dean was coming up with a Plan, he knew. Sam had a few ideas of his own — he always did — but he'd wait and listen to Dean's ideas first. He knew that the break from their father — from, essentially, their entire LIFE — had been harder for Dean than for him. He'd let Dean work out how he needed to deal with it, and, if he could, he'd go along.

After a few minutes, Dean looked back at Sammy, and smiled, scooting himself around so his back was against a wall. Without a word, with barely a thought, Sam moved next to him, and there they sat: two brothers, pretty much alone in the world, with no one to have their back but each other. Sam shifted so his shoulder was pressed lightly against Dean's.

"We can't stay here," Dean said quietly and Sam nodded, having come to the same conclusion. "Even if Dad doesn't come back, and doesn't send anyone after us himself — there's still that Hunter who called him. We don't know what he said, but I think I can take a guess, after what Dad tried to lay on me downstairs."

"I bring about the end of the world."

"Yup," Dean agreed and threw his arm around his baby brother's shoulders.

"Like you said," Sam smiled and leaned his head against Dean's shoulder, "not while I'm with you. Never while I'm with you."

"Never," Dean agreed, and tipped his head to rest against his Sammy's. "But that Hunter won't know that. And we don't have any reason to believe he knows where we are, but…"

"But that's too big a chance to take," Sam agreed. "So. Where do we go?"

Dean was silent a moment, then nodded slowly to himself. "We get out of town," he decided. "Head west. Get into…I don't know. Kentucky, maybe. No! Illinois. Then, we get you to a hospital."

"Hospital? Dean…"

"No, I've been watching you, Sammy, and nothing else has really healed up, not since Dad left. Maybe before. Do you think anything else is just going to…go away?"

"No," Sam admitted. "You're right about that, everything that's going to heal up now, already did. But, Dean…I mean, seriously. We walk into a hospital, and I look like this. What story are we going to give them?"

"We're not going to give them a story," Dean said firmly. "We're going to tell them the truth. Well, most of it. Our Dad did this. It's not the first time, but it's the worst. He was drunk. He laid into you, then he took off. As soon as he left, I brought you in."

"Okay," Sam countered, sitting up and turning carefully to look at his brother, cradling his damaged arm against his chest. "Two things with that. One, it's gotta be 12, 13 hours from here to Illinois. The bruising will change by then. Any doctor looking at me will know I was hit way earlier than we're saying."

Dean dipped his head to the side slightly, acknowledging Sammy's valid point. "And two?"

"As soon as you say Dad did this, CPS gets called. And…I don't…"

"But, Sammy," Dean told him, urgently, "we WANT CPS to get called!"

"We do? Since when?!"

"Since I'm 19," Dean grinned. "Since I got hold of both our birth certificates. Notarized copies and everything. CPS comes in, we tell them what Dad did, and I ask for custody. What judge in their right mind is going to give you back to Dad? With both of our testimonies of what he's done? Hell, the scars we've both got, from Hunting? Most of them could be explained by parental abuse. I know, I know," he interrupted Sammy's interruption before it started, "we've spent our entire lives avoiding hospitals for just this reason. But for the first time, Sammy, it'll work for us. I can get custody, and no one — not even Dad — will be able to split us up. Ever. And when we got that settled…We hit the road again."

"I don't want to Hunt, Dean," Sam said, unable to keep the slightest whine out of his voice.

"I'm not talking about Hunting! We go to South Dakota. To Bobby's. He'll have a job for me. He's been offering to take me on since I was 12! You know he'll take us in."

"Yeah, and it'll be the first place Dad looks for us!"

"No, he'll look at Pastor Jim's first," Dean corrected and Sammy nodded slightly. "THEN he'll look at Bobby's. But hey, Bobby's been threatening to shoot him full of rock salt for how long, now? He sees what Dad did to YOU? Damn! I don't even want to think what he'd do if Dad showed up looking."

"Okay," Sammy nodded. "Okay. CPS is a good thing. A little hard to wrap my head around that, after all these years, but…yeah, okay. My first point still stands, though. IF we're going to a hospital, we've already waited…what? A couple hours now? We can explain that, Dad didn't leave right away. You brought me up here, and Dad was too drunk to make the stairs. Okay. But we can't explain 12 hours, Dean. If Dad was that drunk, he'd have passed out long before then. And if he did, why didn't we get out of there while he was out? It won't fly. Remember the rule: keep your lie as close to the truth as possible. It's more believable, and you have less to remember!"

"Okay, that's a point," Dean agreed. "Okay. Okay, we go to the hospital here, in Asheville."

"I don't know, Dean," Sam frowned. "North Carolina is pretty…conservative. Will they take me away from Dad?"

"That's the beauty of it," Dean grinned. "He not only beat you, he abandoned you. More than once. And I looked at some of the flyers in that diner we hit when we got here? Asheville's like hippy central or something! Gonna be a bunch of bleeding hearts, 'specially after you give 'em your puppy dog eyes. Putty in our hands."

Sam laughed. "Oh, man. I got to admit. That sounds good."

"Yeah. When we get to Sioux Falls, with Bobby backing us up, we can probably get a restraining order if we need to. Keep Dad away from you forever, if we want. Even if we don't, he'll never get you back. If he tries, we'll keep him in court until you're 18 and it doesn't matter anymore. I'll take care of you, Sammy," Dean vowed. "Just like always. 'Cept without Dad beating you up."

Sam was silent for a moment, then broke into a full dimpled grin. "Okay," he agreed. "Okay! One condition."

"Name it," Dean vowed. If he could get Sammy free from Dad, he could anything.

"Once you get custody, you can't turn into a bossy dick. You gotta promise me, Jerk."

Dean laughed. "Promise, Bitch."

TBC