This is my first ever Supernatural fanfiction, so suggestions are always allowed.

Summary: When Dean finds out Sam's being abused by someone they're close to, he decided to take Sam and run. But things get worse when they become stuck in the middle of nowhere and Sam gets sick, really sick.


He's coming after me… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make him mad again. I can see the rage and hate in his eyes as he chases after me.

I run.

I kick my legs as hard and as fast as they would go but it seems like they go nowhere. He catches me anyway. I have nowhere to run, nowhere to go. I claw at the carpet, begging and pleading for him not to hit me anymore.

"Please," I plead.

I'm crying.

He raises his leg and it comes crashing down on my stomach. I try to soften the blow by any means but it isn't working. I feel every kick clearly and painfully. He's yelling something, but I can't hear him. Why can't I hear him?

He's punching me now.

I'm still crying.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry," I cry out but he doesn't care. He still kicks at me.

The house is dark. There's on light and it's coming through the thin white curtain and shining onto his face. In the moonlight, I can see the moon illuminating his angry facial features.

I'm scared.

He bends down now and grabs the ends of my shirt. He pulls it off and throws it across the floor. I use that split second to try to get away but I don't get very far. Maybe an inch or two. He grabs my feet and drags my already raw torso against the scruffy rug.

It burns.

He screams.

I cry.

He lifts me now, smacking me once, telling me to shut up. I try, but it's hard. He throws me on the bed and I kick at him, hoping he would leave me alone.

He doesn't.

He takes off his belt now, and I know what's coming. I bite my lower lip. Telling myself over and over not to cry anymore. I tell myself to toughen up, I'm a man now.

His hand goes back.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

His hand comes forward.

I brace myself.

The belt makes contact with my already bruised skin.

I yell.

He swings harder.

I yell louder.

He stops.

I stop.

He grabs me by the hair, smacks the side of my face and tells me not to make another sound.

His hand goes back again.

I bite my lip.

His hand comes down with all his might, the hardest it's ever been.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and don't make a sound…

Sam's shaking. It's about 1:35 am. Dean lifts his head. On the other side of his one bedroom apartment he can see Sam's 16 year old profile tossing. His head goes back into the pillow. His head rests on the inside of his arm. He's sweating raindrops. Sam's right hand grips the bed sheets. His legs gently kick at whatever he's fighting in his nightmare.

Dean sighs. He knows what's happening. It's happened before. Sam's having a nightmare.

"Sam, stop," Dean says softly.

He doesn't.

In the silence Dean can hear Sam whimpering.

Dean doesn't want to get up. He's warm. But his brother needs him, and Sam always comes first to him.

Stepping out of his warm surroundings, Dean evacuates his bed and walks to the side of Sam's.

Gently, Dean holds the shoulders of his younger brother, trying to keep him still.

"Sam, it's alright. Wake up, Sammy," Dean calls, shaking him a little.

Sam's head tosses from one side to the other. His hair sticks to his forehead, and his face is wet from a mixture of sweat and tears.

This one must be really bad, Dean thinks to himself. By now Sam would have usually woken up by now, more embarrasses than anything, apologizing to Dean for waking him up.

Dean lets go of his shoulders and hold his head in his hands.

"Sam," he calls softly. He gently taps the side of his face. "Wake up, Sam."

He doesn't.

"Dean…Dean, make him stop…," Sam whispers, still dreaming.

At the age of 20, Dean had only dealt with this type of nightmare once before and that was a couple of weeks ago. Even though he was so tired that he would barely think straight, he knew what he had to do.

Letting go of his brother, Dean walked around to the other side of Sam's bed and climbed in.

Dean pulled Sam close, so close he felt as though he could feel the heat of the tears radiating off him. Dean wrapped on arm gently around his stomach. Dean slipped his hand between the sheet and Sam's gripping hand. As softly as he could Dean pulled Sam's hand away and held it in his until it relaxed. Once that happened, Dean ran his hand through Sam's hair a few times in a calming motion.

"It's alright, Sam. I'm here. Shhh…it's alright," Dean whispers soothingly into his baby brother's ear, calming him.

For a while Sam still fussed, but within five minutes he had calmed a lot.

"It's okay, Sammy. I got you, it's gonna be okay," Dean assures, stroking his hair.

Sam stopped now. He was dreaming normally, but still shaking slightly.

Dean pulled Sam closer and rested his head on his.

"It's alright, Sam. He's not gonna hurt you anymore. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you…," Dean says softly.

And with that Sam relaxed completely, finally drifting back to a pleasant sleep with his older brother right there to protect him from whoever 'he' might be…

Please review and tell me what you think. Any perdictions? or suggestions?

Who do you think is hurting Sam?

A/N... Sam is 16, Dean is 20. Dean has moved out and Sam has been spending the night at Dean's new apartment. =]