Summary: "See that attitude right there, that's why I always got the extra cookie."

Arguing with his father, the youngest Winchester is forced to go on a hunt without Dean, and things quickly spiral out of control.

A hurt Sam, big brother Dean Story.

Setting: 14 year old Sam; 18 year old Dean

Beta : Kokoda2007 – Super job, as always!! Unfortunately, mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own them, but wished I did.

SOMETIMES YOU LISTEN, BUT JUST YOU DON'T HEAR

By supernaturaldh

Chapter 1

Caught in the Middle

"SAMUEL…I said NO, and no is what I meant." John Winchester blared across the kitchen table to his 14 year old son. He dragged his hand through his short black hair and sucked in a weary breathe. He was so tired of arguing with his boy. What was it with the kid? Why couldn't he be more like his big brother? He didn't think Sam was going to outgrow puberty, 'cause if he kept this up, he was gon'na kill him first.

"But Dad, it's important, I have to go. I wo…."

"No, Sam. I told you already. You are not going to any open house for school, not tomorrow night." John spat.

Sam's fork banged harshly against his plate as he flung it down with excessive force giving his father a giant eye roll with the motion. He pushed angrily against the table and stood up on his long gangly legs.

"Set your ass back down, right now, and finish your damn dinner." John glared at his youngest, daring him to defy.

Eighteen year old Dean sat across the table watching the encounter and grimaced. He was used to this; it was a daily occurrence in his dysfunctional family, ever since Sam became a teenager. He twirled the spaghetti around his fork, stuffing it overeagerly in his mouth to keep from making a comment.

Sam flopped back down in the chair, angry tears just beneath his eyelids, his face contorting up in an unhappy frown. He pushed his dinner around on his plate, no longer hungry. He just wanted to go to the Middle School Open House. If his Dad would only listen to him, he had won a writing award…he just wanted to be there to collect it, to make his dad proud….why was that always so hard?

Silence settled over the room as Dean and John ate their dinner and Sam sulked.

Dean eyed his brother; Sam's face a mass of anger and disappointment.

John mulled over his next words very carefully not wanting world war three to break out with his youngest. He was too tired to deal with his despairing teenager tonight. He had only been home about an hour; a hunt for a Jack-a-Lope in Kentucky keeping him up the last two nights. His only desire right now, to plant himself on the couch with a cold beer. He knew he and Sam would be leaving early tomorrow for another hunt. He eyeballed his youngest sternly.

"Sam, you have to go with me on the hunt - this weekend, we leave in the morning and it is not up for discussion."

"But DAD!" Sam refused to concede the point, his voice rising to a high pitched whine. "I don't want to go…if you would just listen to me..."

"Sam, we are not having this conversation again. You are going with me and that's final."

John Winchester pushed back in his seat, tired bloodshot eyes glaring at Sam.

"But DAD…" Sam stammered, pleadingly looking at Dean for help.

Dean looked down at the table top, torn between the need to help his brother and the desire to obey his father's stern words.

"Go to your room…." John snapped.

"I hate you." Sam hissed as he pushed up from the chair so hard that it tittered and fell over with a thud to the floor.

"You are still not too damn big to put your butt over my knee, young man."

John's voice quivered as he attempted to hold his anger at bay. He leaned down and grabbed up the chair and sat it upright, heatedly watching his youngest bound from the kitchen.

Sam huffed loudly and stomped from the room, not sure whether John meant his words or not, but really not wanting to find out.

"DON"T YOU SLAM THAT DOOR…." John threatened loudly.

Too late, Dean thought. The bedroom door banged with a loud thud that shook the tiny rental.

John heaved out a weary sigh, pushing the rest of his uneaten meal aside as he rose from the table, wrenched open the refrigerator and yanked out a beer.

Dean reached across the table and grabbed the half eaten plate of food, heading toward the trash. He deposited the dirty dishes in the sink and wearily followed his infuriated father to the living room.

John sat stiffly down on the ratty couch, face set in an angry scowl, head leaning slowly back against the cushions, his throat releasing a loud sigh.

Dean leaned against the door jam, arms crossing his chest, piercing blue eyes staring at his father.

"Dad, I could help you with the hunt this weekend." He offered. "Caleb doesn't really need me on that other job."

John gulped down a swig of beer, and looked forlornly at Dean.

"No Dean. Sammy has to learn these skills himself. He can't always rely on you…or me. Sam is not five, and it's time he pulled his own weight around here."

"I know, but he…he just wants to do what the other kids do…have fun. This seems to be very important to him." Dean's eyes silently implored his dad to give in.

John looked thoughtfully at his eldest. Why Sam couldn't be more like Dean, a good soldier, who did what he was told….

"Your brother…he wears me down sometimes…." John let out a frustrated breath.

Dean could see hesitation on his father's face, a fleeting moment when he might reconsider his decision, but then, it quickly vanished, stern military glare falling back into place.

"No", John scolded gruffly and pushed the beer back to his lips. No son of his was telling him what to do. He was the parent here. End of discussion.

Dean sighed and nodded in concession. He pushed off the door jam, slowly moving toward the bedroom, and his little brother. His father and brother did not communicate, and his Dad didn't seem to understand Sam at all. And why was this weekend so important to Sam?

-o-

Dean's eyes spanned across the dimly lit bedroom as he slowly pushed the creaky door open. His little brother was huddled on his twin bed, face smashed harshly into a pillow. He recognized the light hiccups of air, and knew Sammy was crying.

Dean didn't know what he hated the most, the fact his father didn't listen and always gave Sam a hard time, or that Sam took everything personally, and was very verbal in expressing his dissatisfaction with their life. Mostly he hated that neither of them gave any thought to his plight, and what their constant bickering and arguing did to him. It just wasn't fair that he was always stuck in the middle of the John and Sam Show.

"Sammy?" The twin bed sunk as Dean eased down next to his brother; his fingers gently gripping Sam's shoulder.

Sam tugged away from the hold, his head lifting slightly from the pillow case, bright hazel orbs blinking up at Dean.

"You could have helped me." He vented. The angry glare gone from his face, replaced with one of resignation.

Dean shook his head slightly, "Sam, I can't always get in the middle of you and Dad."

Sam looked disappointedly at his older brother and pushed up to sit next to him on the messy bed. He brought his shirtsleeve up and scrapped it across his face, wiping away the remnants of tears.

"I just wish he would listen to me sometimes. It was important." Sam muttered, "That's all."

The brother's sat in silence until Dean finally ventured to ask, "What was so important?"

Sam's eyes squinted to angry slits as he stared at his brother, "What do you care, it wasn't important enough to take up for me, so it's not important now."

Sam stood, and stomped toward the bathroom, "I'm taking a shower."

Dean sat stoically on the bed, wishing he had pushed harder to get his Dad to relent and let Sam stay home. He hated when his little brother was mad at him, especially because of his Dad.

-o-

The sun had yet to rise when Dean woke Sam, nudging him gently against his side as he spoke.

"Sammy, wake up. Dad said you needed to be ready in ten."

Sam huffed and covered his head with the pillow, hiding completely in the large mound of blankets.

"It's too early," the fourteen year old mumbled.

Dean grinned as he stuffed his overnight gear into his duffle bag and flung it over his shoulder.

"You better get up man, Dad will not be happy if he has to come up after you."

"Whatever…" Sam flung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, clinched fists rubbing the sleep from his crusty eyelids.

Dean smiled. The kid looked so damn young when he did that.

"Caleb's here, so I'm going. You gon'na be okay…with Dad?" Dean asked earnestly.

"Oh yeah, we'll have a blast."

"I got my cell, you call me if you need to talk." Dean grinned.

He punched Sammy on the arm and made his way toward the door. He turned and gave Sam one last glance. He watched as his uncoordinated, gangly limbed brother slumped back sleepily to the mattress, knees curling up against it.

"SAM, get up, NOW." He said in his best, 'don't make me kick your ass' voice.

Sam complied, rolling off the covers and standing to his full height. He blinked owlish eyes at his big brother.

"I'm up…I'm up."

Dean smirked as he made his way out the front door to Caleb's truck. Something wasn't right about this…the little brother that was as tall as the big brother.

"Hey Dean," Caleb smiled as he tugged the driver's door open to ease back in the front seat. "See you on Sunday, John."

John nodded at Caleb, face glancing around past Dean. "Where's Sam?" He asked gruffly.

"He's coming," Dean advised, not liking the tired face; the dark shadow that fell across his father's face.

The passenger door slammed shut as the white Ford truck backed slowly around in the front yard, Dean's eyes gazing out to watch for his brother.

Sam appeared, disheveled, and dragging his backpack over his shoulder, as he ambled slowly out the front door.

Dean grimaced as he heard his father verbally calling Sam out across the hood of the Impala. "Get your ass in gear son, daylights burning."

Sam heaved out a weary breath, and Dean knew the kid was in for a long weekend.

"God, you're Dad is always an ass to Sam." Caleb offered, as he shifted the truck into gear, shaking his head in a disgusted motion.

Dean mentally flinched at his friend's words, so it wasn't just him that saw that in his father. He wished wholeheartedly that he was going on this hunt with Sam.

-o-

Okay- Limp Sam is on the way. Not to worry, Dean is not out of the picture, as Sam will need him to deal with Dad, of this we can rest assured. I wanted this to be a one shot, but it got away from me. Thanks for reading and reviewing. –supernaturaldh-

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