Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to Kripke and the CW. I own nothing.

AN- This Stories-4-Charity story is for Judyann722!

Her prompt was: Either on Sam's first hunt or one of his first so maybe he's around 9 or 10 and Dean 15 or 16 Sam gets hurt due to something the father did. Maybe didn't listen to Dean about bringing Sam on hunt. Of course Dean is mad and causes some kind of problems (leave up to you) but want a happy ending.

Would love if you did add Bobby, Caleb, Jim and Joshua in story. However you want to hurt Sam is fine and definitely want hospital time so maybe everyone gets a bit mad at John at first.

Previously on Supernatural- Clutching Snuffy to his chest, the littlest Winchester closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He wanted to enjoy his last few hours with his family before they dumped him at Bobby's and left.

SPN

Bobby looked up from his cooking as Sammy slowly shuffled into the room. "Morning Sammy" he greeted. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine" Sammy softly said as he carefully lowered himself onto the hard wooden chair. The faded yellow pillow Dean had placed on his chair did little to stop the agony sitting on his bruised bottom caused.

"So, you always walk like a ninety year old arthritic?" Bobby teased. He frowned as his remark failed to get so much as a slight smile from the youngster.

Sammy ducked his head. "I'm okay. Honest." He mumbled as he nervously rolled the salt shaker in his hands. "I'm just a little sore still."

Bobby nodded. He strode over to the fridge and pulled out the carton of orange juice he'd bought when John had called him to say they were coming. He went over and set it on the table and then walked back to the stove. "Dean left some pain pills for you by your glass. Eat a piece of that toast and take'em while I get your pancakes ready." He instructed.

"Yes sir" Sammy replied. He grabbed the top piece of toast, ran a buttered knife over it, and wolfed it down. Shoving the last bit in his mouth, the littlest Winchester grabbed the juice carton and poured some in his glass. He then swiped a hand across his mouth, picked up the pills, and popped them into his mouth washing them down with his juice. Once he'd emptied his cup, Sammy set it back down and cast a nervous glance at his ball capped friend. After a moment's hesitation, he blew out a breath and asked, "Did dad tell you how long they'd be gone this time?"

Bobby brow furrowed. "What'cha talking about Sammy?" he questioned as he expertly flipped the pancakes he was making. "You dad and Dean haven't gone anywhere. They're out in my workshop tuning up the Impala."

"Oh" Sammy muttered. He picked up the salt shaker and started rolling it once more. It made sense that his dad would want to ensure that the car was road ready before heading out. They'd probably leave as soon as they finished. Unless… "Are you researching for their hunt? Can I help?"

Bobby flipped the pancakes onto a plate and took it over to the table. "What are you going on about, Sammy?" he questioned as he sat down beside the boy. "Your daddy hasn't said anything to me about a hunt. He said something had happened and you guys needed a place to hole up for a while."

Sammy's gaze dropped to the table top. Now he understood what was going on. His dad was angry about Sam allowing himself to be bullied and beaten and had decided that he needed extra training. The next few days were not going to be fun. Training with their dad never was. He pushed too hard, expected too much, and constantly compared him to Dean and not in a flattering way either. And since they would be spending the next several days here training instead of his father's preferred pastime of hunting, their dad was sure to get more and more frustrated and furious as time went by. Sammy shuddered, dreading the appearance of that particular part of John. 'If it isn't already here, that is.' He thought. Then again the man being out working on the car wasn't a good sign. If he was doing that, he must be pretty ticked off already. The question was how much. Sammy wondered not for the first time where the loving daddy from a couple of years earlier had gone. The littlest Winchester set down his fork and pushed his plate away. He wasn't hungry anymore.

"Eat Sammy" Bobby admonished, pushing the plate of pancakes back in front of the boy.

"I'm not hungry Uncle Bobby" Sammy softly replied. He looked over at the older man with what his big brother liked to call the puppy eyes of doom and asked, "How mad is dad?"

Bobby frowned. "Mad? What do you mean?" he asked, hoping the kid wasn't talking about what he thought he was.

"How angry is he with me?" Sam clarified.

Bobby's expression softened. "Sammy, your daddy isn't mad at you." he assured, shaking his head both to emphasize that point and to stop the elder Winchesters from storming into the room. "He's angry with your teacher not you."

"But I…"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Sammy." Bobby adamantly stated. "Understand?" Seeing the boy's head drop, the hunter reached over, gently grasped the kid's chin, and pulled Sammy's head back up until they were eye to eye again. "Do you understand, kiddo?"

"Y-y-yes sir" Sammy tearfully answered before ducking his head once more. "Bbbbut dad's, dad's not gon-gonna see it that wwwway."

That got John's feet moving. He rushed into the room and dropped onto his knees at his youngest son's feet. Gently placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, he looked his upset child right in the eyes. "Sammy son I want you to listen and listen good. Okay?" Getting a shaky nod, John smiled. "I am not the least bit angry with you. You did nothing wrong. NOTHING."

"O-okay" Sammy responded. His tone and expression however, told the three hunters that he didn't believe a word.

"I mean it Sammy. I am not angry at you because you didn't do anything wrong." John reiterated. Seeing the disbelieving look still on his son's face, he sighed. The father rubbed his chin trying to find a way to explain his feelings so his youngest would understand. Finally deciding to do something he rarely did with his children, John dropped the confident hunter mask he always wore and allowed the boy to see the naked truth. "Sammy, the last thing I am is angry at you. I'm upset and hurt yes. It kills me anytime you or Dean gets hurt."

"But…"

"And I am angry, furious even but not at you; at your teacher and at myself." John admitted.

Sammy gazed at his father in shock. "You're mad at yourself? Why?" he questioned. "You didn't do anything."

"That's what I'm pissed about! I didn't do a damn thing! I didn't check out the school or the teachers before I sent you boys there! Hell, I didn't even go meet the people! I just handed you over to that witch!" John replied. "If I'd just gone to that school…if I'd just checked her out, you wouldn't have had to endure all the torture she put you through and for that I am so very sorry. I would give anything if I could go back and do things over. But I can't. All I can do is promise you that I will never send you anywhere without thoroughly checking out all the people there first."

Sammy was taken aback by the range of emotions shining in his father's eyes as he spoke. The anger and self-loathing, the sorrow, and the fierce determination spoke volumes. And the love, the pure unbridled love…it blew the nine year old away. Bursting into tears, Sammy threw himself into his dad's open arms. "I, I, I'm ssssorry too, da-dad." he stammered, snuggling closer to the man's chest in a way he hadn't done since he was a toddler. "I, I should should've told De-Dean."

John cradled his baby close. "Not your fault Sammy remember?" he whispered.

"But…"

John sighed. He ought to know the kid wouldn't give it up that easily. After all, Sammy and Dean both had guilt complexes a mile wide. Knowing he'd never win the 'you weren't at fault' argument with his youngest, the eldest Winchester quickly worked out a compromise. "How about we say we both could have done things differently and leave it at that?" he offered.

Sammy smiled into his father's shirt. "Sounds ggggood" he replied with a sniffle.

A genuine grin lit up John's face. "Great!" he enthused. He hugged his youngest to him for a moment before reluctantly releasing him and gently setting the boy back on his chair. "Now that we have that settled, get to eating kiddo! We have a car to finish and fish to catch if we're gonna have a family fish fry tonight!"

Sammy's dimples made an appearance then. "You want me to help with the car?" he asked, the awe clear in his voice.

"Of course I do" John assured his son.

"Yeah, we can't finish without you kiddo." Dean added, ruffling his brother's hair. "Somebody's gotta keep Rumsfield from eating the tools."

"Good luck with that." Bobby muttered.

"Don't worry Bobby, I'm sure Dean can handle that mangy ole mutt long enough for Sammy and I to get the impala's tune up done." John told his friend.

"Me?!" Dean exclaimed. "Why do I have to wrangle the dog?"

Sammy snorted at the fake affronted expression on his big brother's face. While most people would think he was upset about being demoted to dog watcher, Sam knew better. Dean was just putting on an act for his benefit like he always did when Sam was feeling down. Of course Dean didn't know that Sammy knew that so the nine year old let out a well-rehearsed chuckle and said, "What's a matter Dean? Afraid I might show you up?"

"As if, you are no match for me little brother. You are in no way anywhere half as good as me when it comes to fixing cars." Dean cockily stated. "You and dad go ahead and have your fun. Just don't come crying to me when the engine won't so much as turn over."

Sammy pretend scowled. "Oh, it is on big brother!" he challenged. He stuffed the last of his pancakes in his mouth and washed it down with some juice. Standing, he tossed his napkin on his plate and grabbed his dad's shirt sleeve. "Come on dad! Let's go!"

Bobby shook his head as he watched the Winchester boys toss insults back and forth as they walked out of the kitchen. A prank war was coming. He could feel it. Smiling, he picked up Sam's empty plate and glass and deposited them in the sink before going over to the phone. He needed to call for reinforcements.