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Beginning of an eating disorder! Dean story. If you guys like it, I'll keep going.

It was raining outside-not just a drizzle, but the kind of rain that comes accompanied wtih thunder, lightning-the whole shibang. Dean was sitting at the table, weeping quietly and waiting for his Dad to come back to the-it was the anniversery, and he was going to be a mess. It happened the same way every year-Dad would go out, get wasted, and come back either angry or upset. Dean always made sure that Sam was out of the way on these nights-although Dad had never hit them, these were the nights that he came close.

Dean heard the key being inserted in the door, and quickly dried his tears. No need to look like a girl in front of his father.

John walked through the door and tripped over a pair of Sam's jeans. The nine year old was a tornado, leaving dirty dishes and clothes in his wake. It really pissed John off, but most nights he would've left it alone.

But tonight wasn't most nights.

"DAMNIT, DEAN!" he roared. "DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO CLEAN THIS PLACE UP?"

Dean shuddered-it was one of those years. He slowly stood up and walked over to his Dad. "I'll clean up Dad, I'm sorry."

He moved to pick up the pants, but John struck him across the face.

"Damn right you will," John grunted, moving towards the refridgerator. Oh, shit. The fridge would be empty, because he'd given Sam the last of the chicken nuggets and fries earlier.

"Dean?" John asked menicingly. "Where's the food?"

"I'm-I'm sorry," Dean stuttered, improvising. "I finished it."

John slammed the fridge door shut and walked over to his son. "You're getting chubby there, Dean."

"I'm-I'm sorry, Dad," Dean responded. "I'll train tomorrow."

"Damn right you will," John nodded. "Gotta get rid of that fat. Go to bed. I've got drills planned for you tomorrow."

Dean walked out of the room and into the bathroom, where he quickly stripped. He looked in the full-length mirror-Dad was right. I am fat. In his mind, he saw bulging rolls, a double chin, and chubby arms, while anyone else would've seen an all-too-skinny-boy.

I need to lose weight. He'd stop eating. He'd be skinny. He'd be perfect, for his Dad and Sammy.