Chapter 2

Poor Chair

"Son of a bitch!" He roared.

Dean Winchester kicked a wooden chair so hard it splintered into dozens of tiny pieces. Embedding themselves into the thin drywall of the crappy motel room he was currently in. "Why Sam? Why?" He muttered to himself as he looked around the room.

All of his brother's things were gone.

He saw no signs of a struggle, no signs that anything terrible had happened. It was like Sam had just packed up and left. Of course, his brother had before, so this wasn't an entirely new situation to Dean.

But he bit back a curse as he thought about his father. This would definitely be the final straw, another screw up while watching Sam.

Sam and their dad had the biggest fight that Dean had ever witnessed happen between the two. Which was saying something, the two had constantly fought and argued over the years. It got so bad that Dean thought the two were going to come to blows.

Of course, shortly after that, their dad had got wind of a hunt. Probably something to go blow off some steam, but his dad had pulled Dean aside before he left.

"Look, I know what I said to Sam, Dean." He had never seen his father so serious, his brown eyes a warning if Dean messed up. "Don't let him leave." He said sternly, "Watch him, I'm counting on you."

Dean had just flashed his father the usual cocky grin that he was accustomed to. "I've watched Sam my entire life, dad…"

Rather than give him a smirk, his dad looked even more serious. "Yea, well you've screwed that up before." The smile vanished from Dean's face immediately, hurt filling him at the words. He wasn't sure if his dad was trying to hurt him, but the cold tone made him believe he was. "Do not let him leave, I don't give a shit if he wants to go to college. He's not." His tone was no nonsense, but Dean felt the protective instinct over Sam overwhelm his sense of duty to his dad.

"But dad…"

Dean never got to finish his shirt as one of his dads giant hands grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him close. "Dean." He said warningly.

Dean nearly shivered at the cold look his father was giving him. He nodded. "Okay, okay."

His dad had left quickly after that.

Sam had waited a couple days, until Dean had left his guard down to quietly slip out of the room. Frantically, Dean had looked all over the place. But had found no traces of his brother, he knew how smart Sam was. If he didn't want to be found, Dean wasn't going to find him.

Secondly, he wanted Sam to have a normal life if that's what he wanted. If he wanted to go to college, then he should. Although he had a bitter thought run through him at how unfair that was.

He walked over to the fridge and popped open a beer. Sighing a bit at the refreshing taste while simultaneously thinking how he was going to tell dad what happened. He was going to be so pissed at Dean.

Dean ran a hand over his face in frustration. How could his brother do this to him? He told Sammy what dad had said, and yet Sam had left anyway. Didn't he know how dad was going to react when he got back?

He was snapped out of his musings when the door to the motel room opened and his dad stepped inside. He looked disheveled, his black hair was matted with sweat and blood. A long cut ran down the side of his face that was dried. His brown coat and pants were covered in dirt and grime.

His dad closed the door behind him with a huff, almost hissing in pain. Dean immediately wanted to ask him what had happened but his dads sharp brown gaze quickly scanned the motel room. His posture stiffened and he turned to Dean immediately.

"Where the hell is Sam?" He growled and Dean did his best not to flinch at the sound, it was unlike his dad. He had never heard him talk to him like that before, this was beyond the point of anger. This was pure rage.

"Dad, look…"

"I gave you one fucking job, Dean." His dad snarled angrily, stomping toward him. Getting face to face with Dean in an instant. "You can't do one simple thing like watch your brother?" His dad barked out a cruel mocking laugh and immediately Dean felt a surge of anger flow through him. "For fucks sake, boy."

His dad had never in his entire life praised him for anything he had done. It had always been about what he had messed up, not anything that he had done right. He had been a good soldier. Always obeying and listening to his orders, but where had that got him so far? Nothing.

"Watch out for Sammy! Look after your little brother, boy. Seriously, that's all I've ever asked you to do." His dad said in exasperation, Dean shook his head, fists clenching and teeth grinding. "You can't even do that right." His dad scoffed and turned around, shaking his head in disappointment. But Dean wasn't going to let this happen, not anymore.

He was sick of it.

"All this crap you've dumped on me. All about protecting Sam, it's your crap." His dad spun around and stared harshly at Dean, but he wasn't done. He stepped right into his fathers personal space. Right until they were nose to nose. "You're the one who's supposed to be protecting us, you're our father. You're the one who's supposed to be watching us. Sam was supposed to be your responsibility, not mine." Dean bellowed before he put a finger into his fathers chest and shoved. "But you, you self-righteous bastard. You never protected us, you never did anything but belittle and abandon us. I mean…" Dean paused, watching the dark look come over his fathers face. "you couldn't even protect our mother…" Dean knew that none of this was probably wise to say. The smart thing would have been to shut up and take the abuse. But after all the years of how his father had treated him, it felt really good to finally say something. He was done being the whipping boy.

His dads demeanor suddenly shifted and he snarled. Dean wasn't ready for it when his father suddenly headbutted him, he cried out in pain as he heard his nose snap from the blow. His vision blurred and he faintly registered the blood dripping from his nostrils as he stumbled back.

When his vision cleared, he looked at his father who was visibly shaking in rage as he glared harshly at Dean. He raised his finger and pointed at him. "Don't you ever fucking talk to me like that again, do you understand?"

He wiped his nose with his free hand and shook slightly at the large crimson stain that appeared on it. His dad had actually attacked him, he was stunned for a moment before he turned back to look at his father. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, an intense look of anger on his face. There was no sign of remorse or guilt. His dad didn't care.

Dean's vision tinted red and he roared. His hand clenching the cold beer bottle in his hands, without another word he hurled it at his father. Dean had to give his dad credit, despite being twice his age, he still moved incredibly quickly. He ducked out of the way and watched as it shattered into millions of tiny pieces, the foam of the beer splashing everywhere.

He barely had time to register it as his dad charged him and speared him straight in the gut, his burly arms wrapping around him and picking him up into the air.

Dean grunted, before he clasped his hands together and slammed them into his dads back repeatedly. His dad grunted and slammed him onto a wooden table, quickly slamming his fist into Dean's face twice before he could even react. The force of the blow caused Dean's head to snap to the side. He caught his father's next punch and twisted out of his grip, he rolled off the table quickly and got to his feet. But his dad had already recovered, a thick boot slammed into his chest and he winced at the sharp pressure that erupted inside him as he fell back and hit the wall. Another fist slammed into his face.

"God, dad stop." He grunted, his hand reaching up and feeling the blood coming out of his broken nose. Despite trying to get him to stop, he still felt an incredible rage. This was the first time that his dad had ever laid a physical hand on him. His cheek pounded, but despite this, he still wanted to keep his dad happy.

Dean was really fucked up in the head, he realized in that moment. His dad was breathing heavily as he gazed at him. His shoulders rising and falling, his left lashed out and grabbed Dean by the front of his shirt, before he raised his right to land another.

You know what, Dean thought. If this was what his dad wanted, then fine. Screw him, before his dad could launch the next punch, Dean spit squarely in his face.

The wad of saliva landed directly in between his eyes and on the ridge of his nose, causing the older man to recoil in shock. Dean's hand snapped up and latched onto his fathers wrist, before twisting and pushing with all of his might.

His dad grunted and stumbled back a few steps, without a word Dean charged, placing his shoulder directly in the center of his chest. His dads leg hit the couch behind him and he flipped over it. The thudding sound of him hitting the floor filled Dean with satisfaction. After everything he wanted his dad to feel the same feeling of pain Dean was feeling. He launched himself over the couch and landed on top of his dad. Landing his own blows into his fathers face, smirking as he felt his fathers nose crunch beneath his fist. Blood dribbled from his nostrils and stained his black and gray beard.

As he launched another blow he was suddenly flung from his position, hitting the back of the couch and tumbling back over it. He righted himself quickly and raised his fists in front of his face to see his dads brown eyes glaring harshly at him as he too stumbled to his feet. "Enough Dean," His father warned, his hand coming up and pointing at him. "We're both angry, let's not do something we regret." He growled out, and although he was saying this in warning. Dean could still tell he wanted to fight.

"Too late for that." Dean growled.

"Fine." His father said. "You've never been half the son that Sam has been anyway." He barked out hatefully. The look on his dads face as he said that tore his insides apart, but he tried to quickly shove it down deep inside him.

Dean roared at the casual verbal abuse. Charging his father, he threw two quick punches at him, but his dad blocked them with his forearms with barely a grimace. Dean blocked two of his dads own punches before he felt a quick kick land on his thigh.

He hissed in pain and shifted as a fist hit him directly in the cheek. Gasping, he felt spittle and blood fly from his lips as he tried his best not to collapse directly from the blow, even with his vision darkening. Another fist slammed into his ribs and he felt a crack under the pressure of the blow. His breath left him and he gasped, almost one hundred percent sure his ribs had just shattered from the blow. He felt himself get shoved harshly, his back hitting the drywall so hard it cracked and creaked under the pressure.

He gasped, a sharp stinging sensation traveling up throughout the entirety of his back. But despite this, he looked at his dad to see the same face filled with rage, and anger flooded him again. He swung widely and his dad dodged, before his free hand caught his father in the rib cage. Watching his dad bend over and gasp was amusing to Dean as he landed another blow to the man's side.

"Aagh." His dad cried out before stumbling back a bit.

Dean swept his leg out, trying to take his dad off his feet.

It didn't work, jumping aside his dad and him traded punches of their own for several minutes. Dean landed a blow to his face, while he retaliated with one to Dean's ribs, he landed one to his jaw, while in return he got another blow to his cheek. Neither of the two of them were willing to stop or quit, it seemed like they were evenly matched as they continued to trade blows.

At one point, Dean's hands were screaming at him to stop, sharp electric pains running through them with each punch he landed. But he just couldn't, all of his anger and frustration was coming out now, so he stepped back and breathed in deeply. His energy was fleeting as he gazed at his bleeding father, but his father didn't seem to be having the same energy or qualms as Dean was having.

With a primal roar of rage, his dad launched himself at Dean. Who barely had any time to protect himself, all of sudden his dad was a blur of movement. Each blow caused Dean to cry out in pain and gasp. His head snapped back once again, his vision blurring with tears once more.

Weakly, he lashed out to try and land one of his own blows. But his father caught his arm and twisted, with a brutal cry he felt his wrist crack and snap. His arm went numb at the sensation and he instantly felt all of his blood drain from his body, his vision blackened.

He barely heard himself scream, but his dad wasn't finished. Almost like he was possessed, he went further, grabbing his arm and brutally pushing up right at the elbow. Dean felt the second straight brutal snap fill the air, his blood turning to ice and his vision blurring from the intense pain filling his body. He cried out weakly, blood filling his mouth.

Dean barely registered his father, grabbing his shirt and roughly tossing him to the floor. He only registered it when his useless and broken arm and wrist collided with the floor.

He must have blacked out momentarily because when he snapped back into consciousness, his father was straddling him. The most intense look of rage that Dean had ever seen on anyone was currently plastered on his dads face. No one had a right to be that angry.

"Dad." He cried out weakly, his voice practically a warble. But his dad didn't listen. Instead he started to launch blow after blow against Dean's unprotected face.

Dean went numb, his vision blackening once more as he felt the repeated blows to his head. He gasped and cried out, unsure how long the beating stopped. But his head was swimming when he looked up. Dean could barely see his father, he was bleeding from several areas all over his face, his hands and knuckles were a bloody mess. Blood was coming out of his mouth menacingly and one of his eyes was swollen shut and his cheek bruised deeply, but the venomous look he gave Dean made him freeze in fear.

"You're a failure, Dean. Always have been." He spat out.

"Screw you." He snapped back, he wasn't sure if his words actually came out. His voice sounded like a faint whisper in his mind, his head was pounding to oblivion, he could hear blood trickling in his ears. "You're an obsessed bastard. I never want to see you again. Don't you ever come back, don't you ever try to talk to me again, or I'll fucking kill you." Dean cried out through the pain, he still wasn't sure if the words were actually coming out, because they sounded like echoes to him.

His dads expression changed, a look of regret came over his face as he stared down at his eldest son, bruised, bloodied and nearly beaten to death.

"Dean…"

Instead of saying anything Dean merely roared in agony, pain, and anguish. He heard the dull echo of footsteps retreating away from him.

Dean felt himself go in and out of consciousness several times before he heard a distinctly feminine voice. "Mom, oh my god mom. Over here." He felt small, but warm hands ran across his chest.

He wanted to say something but he coughed, feeling blood splatter into the air. He barely felt his body being shifted slightly before he felt darkness swarm him.

When Dean regained his senses it was dark. The only thing that he could see around him was a small sliver of moonlight that peaked in through the lone window to his left. The next thing he realized was that he was in a bed. Whose? He wasn't sure, but it was comfy despite the throbbing pain in his face, and the sharp pain shooting up his right arm.

Speaking of his arm, he could tell that it was wrapped up tightly and he could barely move it. With his good arm he pushed himself into a sitting position. His arm was in a sling. Confusion bubbled within him, had his dad come back and treated him? He wondered. If so, he was still going to kill him. Stupid bastard.

His left hand came up to touch his face and he instantly winced at the sharp stinging sensation. Pain wracked his entire body, but it was something that he was sadly used to.

"I'd hate to see who did that to you." A feminine voice came out from the darkness.

Dean jumped in surprise, his heart racing momentarily. "Who the hell are you?" He growled gruffly, noting that his voice sounded rough and ragged, as if it hadn't been used for a while. He faintly remembered a feminine voice before he passed out.

He heard the woman scoff. "Are you always this rude to those that helped you?" She snapped back at him, and he fought himself from grinning. He loved a woman with a little fire.

"No," He responded easily. "Just the ones who sit in darkness while watching someone sleep."

He heard a slight chuckling sound. "Well, idiot. You had a pretty bad concussion, so I didn't want the light to hurt your head. But if you insist." Dean hissed as the light suddenly sparked to life and he nearly cried out from the intense burning sensation in his brain and the pounding feeling that returned.

He blinked the pain out of his eyes, allowing the blurriness to fade before he looked toward the woman who was sitting there. She sat in a chair a few feet away from the bed, her deep brown eyes were studying him quietly. Dean got the distinct feeling he was being analyzed, almost causing him to shiver.

She was really cute, with long blonde hair, pale pink lips and flawless skin with some curves to boot. She was fairly small as well. Just the type of woman Dean would hit on at a bar.

"You done checking me out, jackass?" She asked with a grin on her face, although he got the sense that it was a warning too. 'Stop, or I'll kick your ass.'

"Sorry." He muttered with a slight smirk.

"You're not, you might think you're hot shit. But honey, I can tell you, you don't look so good right now." She gestured to his face and Dean grimaced.

"That bad, huh?" He said. She didn't respond. Only raised her eyebrows and made an expression that told him he looked absolutely awful.

"So you helped me, and got me here? Why?" He questioned a little quizzically. Why not take him to a hospital? Not that he was complaining, he hated those death traps. It just seemed a little odd. They could have just dumped him and left.
"Mama said you were a hunter. Said you wouldn't appreciate a hospital."

Dean grunted in agreement. "So you both are hunters then?"

Dean saw a flash of annoyance and irritation bubble on her face. "No." She scowled. "Mama won't let me, says it's too dangerous. She runs a bar, lots of hunters come passing through. She helps them when she can." She paused. "You looked like you really needed some help." She muttered absentmindedly, her facial expression softening.

Dean knew his dad, the man was a brawler. He didn't doubt that he was a sorry sight, especially when they found him. He scowled at the thought of his father, he was going to put a bullet between his eyes if he saw him again.

"What's your name?" She asked curiously and Dean shrugged before wincing. That was dumb of him.

"Dean, Dean Winchester."

Her eyes widened. "As in Uncle John's son." Dean recoiled in surprise.

"Uncle John?" He questioned. "Wait, you knew my dad?" His tone was fierce and angry, causing her to flinch back at the ferocity of his tone.

The girl shrugged, although now her brown eyes were studying him warily. "Yea, I haven't seen him in a long time though. Not sure why, he was friends with my mom and dad." She pulled her legs to her chest.

Dean looked at the girl curiously and in confusion. As far as Dean knew, his dad didn't have close relationships with anyone. Maybe Bobby, but the two still butted heads something fierce. This didn't make any sense.

"What's your name?" He asked after a tense moment of silence.

"Jo, Jo Harvelle." She practically whispered, as if she were expecting him to recognize her by her name. Dean merely looked at her blankly. "My moms name is Ellen." She studied him even more. "He never told you about us?" She asked, her face told Dean that she was being genuine. She must not have seen his dad in years.

He wondered what his dad must have done in order for that to happen. "He never mentioned you guys."

She frowned, Dean decided at that moment he didn't like when Jo wasn't smiling. "After my father passed, I never saw him again." She whispered, a look of intense sorrow on her face. Dean frowned as he studied her.

"I'm sorry." He said genuinely, she gave him a soft smile but didn't reply. They sat there in silence for a few moments before she broke it.

"So John Winchester," He tried not to flinch at his name. "My mother always told me he was one of the best in the business. I imagine he would teach his son all he knew." She absentmindedly looked toward the door of the room. "Who could have done something like that to you?" She asked curiously.

Dean scowled fiercely, while clenching his hands. Before realizing doing that with a broken wrist was not a good idea, he nearly cried out, but bit his tongue to keep himself from doing so. He looked Jo in the eyes. "My dad…" He trailed off, not knowing how to word it.

Before he could finish putting his thoughts together on how to explain to the woman that his dad had been the one to beat him within an inch of his life, the door to the room opened. The first thing he saw as he looked at the woman was that she looked very similar to the woman next to him. Meaning this must be her mother, Ellen.

The next thing he noticed was the stern and demanding cold glare that told him not to mess with the woman. She had the same deep brown eyes and small build, looking almost identical to her daughter except she had brown hair instead of blonde, plus her face was much more weathered. But she had the same natural beauty that Jo possessed.

"Jo." Ellen practically barked. "I told you not to…"

"Mom." Jo whined back. "He's fine, look, he didn't try to kill me." She said with a smirk.

Ellen faltered before she turned and glared at Dean, causing him to gulp. "You can never be too careful."

"That's Dean, John Winchester's son." Ellen looked surprised, a small grin came over her face before she frowned.

"Oh, well alright. I'll try and get a hold of John, I know he must be worried…"

"No." Dean said, a sense of worry and nervousness coming over him. It was clear that these two women thought John was a good man, and he was. But he had beaten the pulp out of Dean.

Ellen frowned and looked at him in concern as well as surprise. He turned to see Jo giving him the same look. "Why not? Your daddy must be concerned, you were beaten to within an inch of your life."

Dean breathed in deeply to calm himself. "He's the one who did this to me."

Ellen shook her head, a look of horror coming over her face. "That's impossible, John would never…" She trailed off, her left hand coming up to cover her mouth. Her eyes looked at him as tears welled within them. "He talked so much about how he loved his boys, he wouldn't have."

Dean looked her in the eyes. "I'm telling you, he did this to me. I never want to see him again." Ellen stared at him for a few moments in complete silence. As if trying to gauge whether or not he was telling the truth.

After a while she must have made her determination because a scowl came over her face. "That bastard." She whispered, her eyes flickering to Jo's. The blonde girl looked at Dean in horror as well, she couldn't imagine someone's father doing that to someone.

"I'm so sorry Dean." Jo said quietly.

Dean looked at her and tried to give her a reassuring smile. "It's okay." Judging by the look on both of the woman's faces, he failed miserably at trying to show them he was alright.

"You can stay here awhile Dean, and if I see John, I'll send him packing. One way or another…" She trailed off and Dean could tell by her expression she wasn't kidding.

He smiled at her. "I can't thank you enough for helping me…"

Ellen smiled at him. "It was nothing, now rest up, your head is still in a sorry state." She turned to glare at Jo, pointing a finger at her. "And you, let's go. Let the poor boy get some sleep." Jo scowled at her mother, but not before tossing Dean a sad grin.

The two turned the light off and quietly left the room. As Dean sat in the darkness his head began swimming.

"Fuck."