Title: To quell the pain.

Summary: When John and Sam keep fighting it's tearing Dean apart. He finally finds a way to deal with the pain. Preseries.

A/N: Hey guys! Okay so this is just a little something I sat down and wrote in one go. I was a bit depressed when I wrote it last night so sorry if it seems bleak. Dean's around 21 which would make Sam 17. Anyway let me know what you think.

"I want to live a normal life Dad! Why the hell can't you understand that?" Sam's voice screamed from inside the small apartment which was currently home to the Winchesters.

Dean shrunk back further into his corner in the small bathroom as his father's voice boomed through the paper thin wall, loud and clear as ever.

"Sam while you are living under my roof you will do as I say! You will not be going to that party. That's an order." John voice roared.

The sound of something breaking was what came next and Dean pressed himself further into the corner as if the sound had physically struck him. This had been going on for too long. Over the last year and a half the fights between John and Sam had been getting more frequent and intense.

Dean had at first tried to stop them by defusing the situation, before it could end up like this, with jokes and wise cracks. Sometimes even asking to talk to his father or brother, be it about hunting at school. He figured that while they were talking to him they wouldn't be tearing each others throats out. But as the weeks and months had gone by, that tactic had basically stopped working.

Then he had tried stepping in between them which had worked for short time as well. Eventually though they pretended like he wasn't even there, standing between them, trying to break it up. And even though they didn't directly say it they kept asking him to choose a side. It was the same when he was alone with one of them they would just rant about how stupid or stubborn the other one was and expect him to agree with their point of view. It was tearing Dean apart.

So now he sat huddled on the floor in the corner of the bathroom of the apartment they were currently calling home. He supposed that his brother and father didn't even know he was missing, they never seemed to notice anymore. Until it was all over and they expected him to be there to pick up the pieces.

Dean cringed as Sam bought out the big guns, "Do you think this is the life Mom would have wanted for us?"

The apartment was eerily quiet for a few moments after that and the tension was palpable. Dean could practically see the look on his brother's face from behind the closed bathroom door, the shock and regret that he had thrown that at his father. Possibly also fear in those big brown eyes. And he could practically see his father turn his back to Sam. The fury rolling off him in waves and the deadly glint in his eye if some poor person were ever to speak wrongly of his now dead wife.

Dean tensed. This wasn't going to end well and he wasn't sure if he wanted to be here when it did. He got to his feet and paused at the door, listening to any form of sound that they, his family, were still in the living room. He could hear heavy breathing so he waited, his forehead pressed against the cold bathroom door.

"I said no Sam. And I mean it." John said in a low and deadly tone that clearly signified the end of the 'discussion'.

The sound of a pair of angry footsteps which could only belong to his kid brother was heard thumping down the hallway to the room they were sharing followed closely by the door slamming.

Dean flinched at the loud bang and let out an exasperated sigh. He waited a few more moments until he was sure that there hopefully wouldn't be a repeat of tonight's performance before he opened the door as slowly and quietly as he could.

Fingering the keys to his beloved Impala in his jacket pocket Dean snuck through the living room and out past the kitchen. He almost made it to the front door before his fathers gruff voice stopped him.

"Where are you going?" there was no malice in the words, none of the previous anger. In fact his father's voice sounded almost too soft to be the voice of the normal John Winchester.

The younger hunter turned around, trying to keep an innocent look on his face and eyed his old man cautiously, "I was just going to go out to the bar down the road. Get us some money. I know we could use it." He said. It was the truth. He had every intention to go to the closest bar, just not to hustle pool or poker. He was going to go and get himself a good few shots and beers and try to forget about the little show his family had just put on. Not the best way to fix his problem but the only way that seemed to be having any effect lately. Not that he did it frequently. Only every few months when things just got to be to much.

John eyed his son for a moment as if sizing him up before he nodded in acceptance, "Try not to stay out to late Dean." He said and with that he turned and walked back down the hallway to his own room.

Dean let out a sigh of relief. He had no doubt in his mind that his father had probably seen right through him, but then again it was the great John Winchester who had taught him that the best lies often stem from truth. He quickly exited the apartment and got into his Impala.

The smell of worn leather and gun powder filled his nose as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. If someone had asked Dean Winchester where his home was he would have undoubtedly told them that it was with his father and his brother, side by side in his 1967 Chevrolet Impala.

A wall of loud country music and smoke filled air hit him in the face when he walked into the bar. He walked himself over to the bar and made himself comfortable on a bar stool at the end. He didn't feel up to any chit chat tonight. Unless it was to the bottom of a shot glass or beer bottle.

"What'll it be honey?" a twenty something barmaid asked him.

He looked up. She was nice looking and could be considered his type, and by the way she was leaning over the bar giving him a view of her enormous cleavage, she was obviously into him. Unfortunately for her the Sex God Dean Winchester wasn't in the mood tonight.

"Beer, two whiskey shots and three tequila shots. Keep them coming." He said giving her a polite smile to let her know he wasn't interested.

Her smile faltered for a second but she brought him his poison none the less.

Dean took a long pull of his beer and followed it up by a shot of whiskey. He winced as the liquor burnt his throat but smiled inwardly because something that burned that much was going to have the effect he so desperately wanted.

He didn't want to hear the two people he loved most in this world tear strips off each other anymore. He could hear snippets from their previous fights cut through his mind like a knife and he pressed his palms to his eyes in an attempt to muffle to voices.

Why didn't they realize they were tearing him apart? Couldn't they see what their constant fighting was doing to him? 'No of course they can't' he thought bitterly. They only saw the obedient son and the protective older brother. They didn't see the young man underneath that, the one who could feel his soul bleed every time they flung such harsh words around without even really hearing what they were saying. They couldn't see the young man who was losing weight and sleep because of them. They couldn't see that they were slowly killing him in the worst possible way.

He wondered what they would do if he just up and left them. Would they miss him? Would they even notice that he was gone? No they probably wouldn't. At least not until he was so far gone they could never find him. They would only notice when he wasn't there to keep things together, to pick up the pieces.

'Selfish bastards' he thought as he downed his other whiskey shot and took another long swig of his beer.

"You okay honey? You look a little sad there. Bad night?" a sweet voice drifted through his thoughts. He looked up to see the barmaid smiling sadly at him.

God, even she could tell that he wasn't okay! This stranger who he had never met before could tell he was not alright, that everything wasn't just fucking peachy and yet his own family seemed blind to his pain.

"I'm okay, thanks." He said and cleared his throat. He hoped that would be enough for her to just go and leave him alone. When he looked up from drinking a good half of his beer at once she was still there, concern in her eyes.

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and looked down at the amber liquid in his two tequila shooters when she left him to his peace. Picking one up he toasted quietly to his father and downed it before doing the same with the other one for his brother. The liquor burned his throat on its way down to his almost empty stomach. There had been no dinner tonight, he had cooked it but it lay untouched on the kitchen stove by the Winchester boys. Sam and his father's fight had come when he was about to serve it. Fair enough to say he doubted that any of them had eaten since lunch.

That's why he was not surprised by the sudden haze that crept over and engulfed his mind out of no where. Blessed relief. He finished his beer and motioned for some more shooters.

By the time he had downed another three shots of tequila and another beer he had the sudden urge to sleep. Figures seeing as he hadn't been getting much lately. He rolled the small shot glass from hand to hand, memorized by how smoothly it moved across the bar top. The soft thumping from the music behind him was relaxing him into pure blissfulness.

"We're about to close up. Is there someone I can call to come and get you? I don't think you should be driving right now." The barmaid said as she took his empty glasses.

Dean looked up groggily and noticed for the first time that the bar was basically empty except for him and a few bikers who were finishing up a game of pool. Looking at the clock behind the barmaid's head he saw with shock that it was one thirty in the morning. Had he really been there five hours? Shit his Dad was going to kill him. He should have been back before twelve.

Wait no, his family wouldn't even notice that he was gone until Sam needed his lunch for school in the morning and John wanted him to do whatever it was he wanted him to do.

"Not like they would fucking notice me being gone." He slurred to himself. He didn't even realize he had said that until he noted the barmaid still standing there looking at him with pity in her eyes, "Okay I'm going. How 'bout one for the road doll?" he asked and hiccupped which was followed by a burp. Dean could feel the alcohol and the small contents that he had eaten earlier that day wanting to make a guest appearance with the burp but he forced it back down.

"I think you've had enough Hun. Are you sure there's no one I can call for you?" she asked eyeing him carefully.

Sudden anger filled his every pore. How dare she tell him when he had had enough! "No I haven't had enough! I'll tell you when I've had enough so bring me another one." He demanded slamming his fist on the bar top making the poor girl in front of him flinch and take a step back.

"Is there a problem here?" a deep voice sounded from behind him.

Dean turned to see the biker and his friend who had apparently finished playing pool had come over to check on the action at the bar. Great, just what he needed, a bar fight with the Hulk and Godzilla when he wasn't even sure if he could stand when he did eventually get up.

"No guys its fine. Our friend here was just leaving." She said looking at him pointedly, it obviously wasn't a request.

The young hunter however was sick of being stepped on tonight and he wanted one for the road, "No I'm fine here. Come on hot stuff, I didn't mean to scare you. I just want one for the road." He said trying to turn on his charm (his anger evaporated with seining the two menacing bikers behind him) which in his current state wasn't working at all.

She shook her head nodded to the two burly bikers behind him. Before he could react there was a vice grip on both of his arms and he was being thrown down the front steps of the bar and onto the cold hard concrete of the parking lot. He landed in an unceremonious heap on the ground and saw stars when his head connected with the lumpy ground.

"Son of a bitch!" he mumbled under his breath as he rubbed his head. He looked up to see his precious car about fifteen feet in front of him. He moved his hands underneath him and pushed himself up and onto his unsteady feet.

Man his head was going to kill him in the morning. Or later that day seeing as it was already in the AM, or maybe still tomorrow since he hadn't slept yet. Ah whatever, too much thinking about the time was hurting his head. He stumbled clumsily, tripping over his own feet over to his baby. When he got the drivers door unlocked, which took more effort than it should have, he collapsed across the front seat and passed out.

John Winchester glanced again at the clock for what had to be the fiftieth time in the last five minutes. Dean should have been home by now. It didn't take that long to hustle a game of pool and drink a few beers. Then again who the hell was he kidding! He knew Dean hadn't gone to hustle any pool. He had seen it in his son's eyes when he had said he was going to the bar that the younger man was intending to get smashed.

The oldest Winchester cursed. He shouldn't have let his son go out alone knowing what he was going to do. But like always he had been to preoccupied with being angry at his youngest to really take much note of what his oldest was doing.

He wasn't blind. He had noticed that Dean seemed to be getting thinner and more tired as the months went on. He had just been too caught up in trying to defend himself and the life he had given his boys from the constant attacks thrown at him by his youngest.

Sam had been getting more defiant as he got older so he had been taking up more of John's time. He couldn't have Sam not following his orders when they were on a hunt or it could end up with one of them dead.

Rubbing his hand tiredly over his two day growth of beard he cursed again under his breath again. Maybe if he hadn't have been so taken up with Sam he would have been able to help Dean more. God only knows that that boy bottled up his emotions and thoughts and John feared the day that those emotions would be let lose.

But still Sam had been getting on his nerves a lot lately, he was questioning everything and it was almost as if he was defying his order just to irritate him. That and he didn't think his eldest son would appreciate him initiating a chick flick moment, as Dean liked to call them.

The notion of his defiant son made John's anger start to flare up again but he pushed it back down. Sam could wait, right now he had more important things to deal with. Namely Dean.

The oldest Winchester got to his feet and went to the front door. As he opened it he heard a quiet voice from behind him.

"Dad where are you going?" Sam asked blearily apparently having just woken up.

"I'm going to find your brother." John said matter of factly.

Sam looked at his watch, his eyes squinting to see in the dim light of the hallway. It was two o'clock in the morning. He looked back up at his father with a determined look on his face, "I'll come with you. Just let me grab my shoes." He said and shuffled down the hallway into the room he shared with Dean.

John went to argue but then thought better of it. It would be better if it was the two of them bring Dean home. Lately when the boy went out John would end up having to go out and retrieve his son from whatever bar he had been getting sloshed at. It seemed like each time he got to Dean, his son didn't want to go anywhere and insisted on staying to drink. John usually had to end up barking orders at Dean to get his ass in the truck before he could do any more damage to his liver.

The older hunter looked up as his son came rushing back down the hallway pulling on a jacket as he went. They made eye contact as they walked through the door, making a silent truss for now.

Sam hadn't failed to notice that Dean wasn't there when he woke up. It seemed to be happening a bit more frequently lately. Sam knew it had something to do with the fights he had been having with their father. But the man was impossible! Why Dean couldn't see that he had no idea.

The youngest Winchester looked up as his father's truck came to a stop. They were parked in the local bar's car park. To his left Sam saw the Impala. Besides from that the place was pretty much dead.

Hopping out of the truck and following his father to the Impala Sam's stomach tied itself in knots. His brother's car door was opened and as they came around to the driver's side he could see Dean's feet hanging limply out the car door.

John walked ahead of his youngest and cursed out loud this time when he saw his oldest passed out in a crumpled heap on the front seat, "Sam help me get him out." He commanded grabbing a hold of Dean's legs.

Sam jumped around to the passenger's side and crept through to grab his brother under the arms and help John drag him out of the car. They laid Dean on his back between the vehicles.

"Dean, come on son. Wake up." John said softly tapping Dean's cheek. When he got no response he made his tone more of a commanding one, "Dean. Wake up now." He said tapping Dean's cheek harder.

"Dean come on man wake up." Sam piped up crouched next to his brother.

Hearing Sam's voice seemed to help somewhat and Dean's eyes fluttered for a bit before opening and looking at his tiny family with unfocused eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but when he made a hiccupping motion John knew what was coming and quickly rolled Dean onto his side, holding him up so he could empty the contents of his stomach.

When the dry heaves stopped Dean went completely limp in his father's arms, spent from the effort it had taken to throw up. He groaned from the stabbing pain in his head and stomach and now, thanks to his little puke-fest, his raw throat. John and Sam helped him up and put him in the back of the Impala. John's tuck only seated two people so he decided they would leave it there and come back for it in the morning.

Sam sat in the back holding Dean so that Dean's back was against his chest. He clasped his hand loosely around Dean's stomach and whispered words of comfort into his ear. He hadn't seen his brother this drunk in well, ever.

Dean leaned back into his little brother's warmth and relaxed more when the throaty growl of the Impala met his ears. They had come and got him, both of them together. He felt guilty for the thoughts he had had about his family while he had been drowning his emotions.

"Why Dean?" he head Sam's concerned voice in his ear. He was surprised to hear such raw concern in his brother's voice but he let it warm his heart, give him some sense of being loved. Because right now he wasn't feeling too great.

"I just, " he paused thoughtfully for a moment trying to collect himself, "I just can't take it anymore. You and Dad keep hurting each other and I just can't stand by and watch the two people I love most in this world tear each other a new one all the time. I just can't do it anymore. I wont." He said truthfully his voice breaking on the last words as his eyes got wet from moisture that had appeared without permission.

John clenched the steering wheel tighter and at the pure emotion in his son's voice. The pain, love and hurt being the most dominant things to come through. My god what have I done to my son? How could he not see what he's fighting with Sam had been doing to Dean? Christ, no wonder his son had drunken until he passed out. He wouldn't want to have to listen to the people he loved fighting everyday either. It tore his heart out.

A glance into the rearview mirror told him that Sam was thinking the same thing. They had stop this. If not for themselves, then for the once again unconscious figure in the back seat.

Okay so that was it. That's my first time writing John so if I made him seem heartless or something sorry for that. I actually think he's a really interesting character. Anyway, press the little button and let me know what you think. Thanks.

Mishka xXx