Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction after taking a seven(?) year hiatus. A lot of stuff has happened between then and now- namely I am now 20 years old. The idea for this came to me during a gym session when I thought it was possible I might die. Sam is 15 and Dean is 19.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the Winchester Boys- as much as I would like to.

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The sun beat down on Sam's back, obscuring his vision which was only made worse by the droplets of sweat falling into his eyes. He stopped momentarily, bent over with shaking hands on his knees, desperately trying to suck in a breath.

"Sam, did I tell you you were allowed to stop?" His father barked gruffly, hands crossed against his chest.

"No sir," Sam panted, trying to muster what little energy he had left. His brother watched from the motel's picnic bench, chuckling to himself at the sight of his weedy brother drenched in sweat.

"At least you still remember to not be insolent. Another 5 sets of push-ups."

Dean checked the time on his watch- it had been 45 minutes of watching vigorous exercise and he was starting to get a little bored. He would never tell his dad this or face the risk of incurring his father's wrath, but he was considering skulking into their motel room or perhaps even trying his luck at the local bar using one of his FBI IDs that legally allowed him to drink. There were those little bottles of spirits in the minifridge- but if John noticed they were missing he would have hell to pay. Sheltering his eyes against the blazing sun, he watched his brother complete another set. His gangly limbs were trembling now, and Dean couldn't help but feel like his dad was pushing Sammy a bit too far.

Dean cleared his throat, and John cast him a sidelong glance.

"Something to say, Dean?" John asked sardonically.

"Nothing sir. Just that I'm sure Sam understands now that he messed up." Dean said tentatively- not wanting to piss his dad off and get himself in the same position his little brother was in.

"I mean, look at the kid- he's more sweat than anything else." Dean grumbled, which earned him a glare and a middle finger from his brother when his dad was looking away.

"Your brother needs to understand the risk he put us all in. If he hadn't been so busy daydreaming we could've burned that bitch before she managed to throw me halfway across the room." John muttered, the twinge in his back a reminder of his youngests tendency to get lost in thought.

"Dad, I said I was-"

"I'll know you're sorry when you show me you're sorry. Me and your brother can't exactly rely on you if you're away with the fairies half of the time."

Sam sighed, exasperated, but bit his tongue. He knew it wouldn't help his situation to argue back at this point.

Dean caught his brother's eye and shrugged his shoulders. He knew Sam would understand what this meant- 'I tried.'

Standing up and stretching his back, Dean walked back towards the motel room- determined not to get involved in the drama between his family and inevitably become the middle man.

"Dean, where do you think you're going?" His dad asked, eyes not leaving Sam as he wearily started another set of push-ups.

"Just going to lie down for a bit. There's a magic fingers machine that's calling my name." Dean smirked to himself as he imagined his dads scornful face.

"Alright, just don't spend all our quarters, I earned those."

As Dean entered his and Sammy's shared room- the musty smell overpowered him and he tried not to think of what their room had seen before them. Immediately collapsing on his bed, he pulled his boots off and stuffed his face into the pillow, hand tightening around the gun concealed there.

"Just a couple of minutes", he mumbled to himself.

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The sun was disappearing behind the blanket of trees that surrounded the motel when Dean started to wake up. Looking over to his brother's bed, he felt surprised to see it empty. Yawning as he sat up, Dean walked over to the motel window and pulled the curtain back.

"Goddamnit," he mumbled, pulling his boots back on and stalking over to wrench the motel door open and striding over to the scene in front of him.

His brother, pale and obviously suffering from exhaustion, was being watched with a scathing eye as John yelled orders to him.

"Dad, what in the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean questioned, pulling his father's shoulder around to face him.

"Dean," John growled, obviously warning his eldest son to stay out of it.

"No, Dad, it's been 4 hours. You're just torturing him at this point- he'll be too exhausted to be any help in our next hunt." Dean said, fists clenching as he tried to control the wave of anger rising through him.

"Dean, I'm just asking you to trust me a little. I know what's best for this family and I haven't led us astray yet-"

They were both snapped out of their argument by the sound of Sam's body hitting the grass, every inch of his body shaking as he lay there.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, rushing towards his brother's limp form.