I got this idea last night, and I thought... what happened after the Shtriga came. This is super short.
"Sammy. Sammy," John Winchester said his son's name quietly as he held him in his arms. Sam opened his eyes slowly before he glanced up at his father. "Dad, what's going on?" John held him a bit closer, slightly resting his chin on the top of his head. "Are you alright?" John then looked over at his other older son, Dean when he stepped inside the motel bedroom. "What happened?"
"I- I just went out," he answered slowly.
"What?" John asked in disbelieve.
"J- Just for a second. I'm sorry."
"I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let him out of your sight," John spoke with anger showing through his voice. He then holds Sam closer to him as he glared at Dean.
Dean stood there watching his father and brother. The guilt of what he did already building up inside him. The look his father gave him made him feel even worse. He had disobeyed an order, and he wish didn't now.
John lied his younger son back down on the bed before he stood up, walked toward Dean and put his hand on his shoulder, gripping it lightly as he turned him around, making him walk out of the room with him. John shut the door halfway before facing Dean again. He stared him in the eye, the anger still visible. "You disobeyed an order. You almost got your brother killed."
"I- I'm sorry," Dean said barely above a whisper. "I-it was a mistake."
"You can't make mistakes. That mistake almost got him killed. You didn't even try to fire."
"I was about to…"
"About to?" he repeated. "Never hesitate when someone's life is on the line, do you understand?"
"Yes sir," Dean nodded slowly.
"Go get packed. I'm taking you to Pastor Jim's," John walked passed him as he grabbed a bag off the floor that lay next to the bedroom door. He set the bag on the edge of the kitchen table and then began packing up the shotgun Dean had leaned up against the wall, and everything else that he needed. Glancing at Dean, he saw he had not moved. "What're you waiting for? Go pack."
Dean slowly moved back in to the bedroom, grabbed his backpack, set it on the bed before he walked to the small wooden dresser, and grabbed his clothes out of it before he went back to the bed. Stuffing the clothing inside the bag, he made eye contact with his younger brother.
"Is daddy mad at you?"
Not wanting to tell him the truth, he shook his head. "No, Sammy. He's not mad."
Dean turned his attention to the door when he heard the floor creak slightly from the weight of someone stepping on it, and he saw his father standing there.
"Are you done packing?"
"Yes, sir," Dean answered.
"Good. Go wait in the car while I get your brother ready."
"Yes, sir," Dean faced his bag again, grabbed it with one hand before he left the room, leaving his father and brother alone.
After a short while, Dean watched as the two stepped out of the motel room and headed to the '67 Chevy Impala. John opened the backseat door and Sam climbed inside. Shutting the door, he walked to the back, opened up the trunk and set the bags inside before he closed it again. Dean saw him go back in to the building, only to reappear again a moment later. The drivers' side door opened, John climbed inside and started the engine a few seconds later. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, which made Dean become uncomfortable.
"I hope you'll obey what I say next time," John said as he looked at him through the rear view mirror.
"Yes, sir," Dean nodded.
That was the last thing either of them said during the three-hour drive to Pastor Jim's in Blue Earth, Minnesota.