Dean walked into the house he had shared with his father and brother for the past year, and took a deep breath. He knew the man was home, the black monster of a truck parked in the driveway told him that. What he didn't know was how he was going to deal with the man that had hurt Sammy for years, and had somehow convinced his younger brother that he was to blame for their mother's death.

The scars he had seen littering Sam's body had been enough to make fury burn bright under his skin, and it made him want to kill the person that had put Sammy through so much pain, even if it was their father. The man he had idolized and the man he had tried to make proud of him for so many years.

Hearing the loud snoring coming from the other room, Dean walked quietly in that direction. He found his father sleeping in his easy chair, an empty bottle of Vodka lying on its side on the small table beside him. The man looked rough even in sleep, and the foul odor of the room, made Dean want to vomit. He didn't know how the man could sleep or even live in a place like this.

Dean walked over and shook his father roughly awake, after contemplating for a moment what he would do when the man awoke. Finally deciding that he would talk to the man and try to get some answers before he beat him to a bloody pulp, Dean woke his father.

"Wha'?" The man's voice was slurred, and Dean could tell he wasn't completely sober.

"That's what I want to know," Dean growled, his voice menacingly low, his eyes dangerous. "That and why." When John looked back at him, confusion marring his face, Dean felt he should explain. "Why would you beat your youngest son? Why would you try and convince him that he was the cause of his mother's death, and all the evil that lives in the world? Why would you treat you own flesh and blood as if he were nothing but a common whipping boy?" Dean's voice rose as listed his questions, and his father's face deepened in a frown.

"What do you mean? Did that boy tell you I did something to him? Did he?" His father's anger was palpable, and Dean flinched from the hatred his tone implied. How could he hate his own son that much?

How could Dean not have seen the pain Sam was going through?

"He didn't have to tell me anything!" Dean roared, satisfaction flowing through him as he saw his father flinch back from him. "I saw the cuts, the bruises, the scars! That kind of abuse only happens over time, and there was no way that someone Sammy barely knew would hurt him that badly, and with all the moving around we have done, there was no one he could get close to. I know it wasn't me, I would never inflict pain like that on anyone let alone my own flesh and blood." Dean paused for a reckless moment, weighing the truth he was about to say.

"That only leaves one person who could have done this dad, one person. You!" Dean punctuated the last word with a hard right hook, planting his now standing father on the ground. "How could you do that to Sammy? How could you hurt him that badly?" Dean was desperate for any answer his father could give to make what he had done right.

"How could I do that to him? He's responsible for your mother's death, for all the pain and suffering we have gone through in our lives! It's his fault that we live this life!" John had stood as he said this, only to have Dean knock him down once again, using his left fist this time.

"Sam had nothing to do with Mom's death! He was six months old for Christ's sake! It's not his fault we have been living this life, it's yours. You could have let the cops deal with everything and forgot what you had seen that night, and just let us live our lives normally; but no you trained us and made us hunt. Sam never wanted to hunt, to be on the move all the time, and never even have time to make friends that was all you. You and your stupid pride.

"You have no right and you never did, to ever blame Sam for what had happened! Mom was killed in his nursery, so you blame him for it? What kind of logic is that? If anything you should be keeping him closer to you, afraid to lose him, or maybe you should have just left him alone if you couldn't handle being near him! But there was absolutely no reason to ever hit him! No reason to accuse him for something he had no control over what so ever, no reason to make him blame himself for the death of his own mother, just because you couldn't handle the pain!" Dean took several deep breaths trying to calm himself down, but before his father said a word he added, " I don't want you to go anywhere near me or Sam, or Lily. I don't want to see you, and it might even be better if you just leave this town. I am going to pack mine and Sam's things and then I am going to leave. Got it?" Dean asked, giving his father a pointed look.

"Yeah I got it. But son if you walk out of that door, don't you ever come back!" John's voice was a low growl, and Dean's fury deepened.

"Why would I want to come back here?" Dean walked from the room, letting his father stew in his thoughts. When he returned twenty minutes later with bags in hand Dean stopped and stared straigt at his father.

"Sam's happy now and if you ever do anything to hurt that happiness I will kill you." Dean's voice was deadly quiet, and he turned and walked out the door.

John Winchester had lost both his sons, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.


A/N: I know it took a while for me to post this, but I had too much crap to do yah know? The only reason this got posted was because Sammy and Dean kept bugging me to, and there were so many e-mals for me to post this it wasn't even funny.

Take care and I hope you liked it.