A/N: I'm back with another chapter fic, just like I'd said! :D :) This one was a request by LoveIsAllYouNeed96. Thanks for the request. I loved the idea. Also, unlike my other stories where I portray John as a caring father, in this one it will not come to that. John is kind of the opposite in this one as the story kind of needs it. You'll understand later on. Hope you all like this! :D :)

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.


A gleaming, sleek, black Impala stood outside room number 20 of the Miracles Motel. Behind this room number 20 was a decent sized grassy area. Kind of like a place where you could read or just lie down and look at the sky. But for the Winchester's this was a training arena.

John sat on a foldable chair in the veranda near the back door of their room and watched his sons sparring session intently. Sam and Dean were dripping with sweat with their shirts and knee length shorts clinging to their skin. Sam ran a hand across his forehead hastily shoving his bangs out of the way. Dean smirked as he eyed his baby brother who was breathing heavily after being decked thrice by Dean in the last 50 minutes. Both resumed a defensive stance and circled each other, anticipating the next move.

After a lot of dodging and kicking and wrestling in each other's grip for a few minutes, Sam huffed in success as Dean ended up on the ground.

"See? I said I'd deck you," said Sam. Dean smirked up at his brother and got to his feet wiping off the mud from the back of his shorts.

"That was great. I didn't see that coming," Dean agreed. He truly hadn't seen it coming. True, he did let Sam win sometimes just to boost the kid's morale but Sam always had surprises up his sleeves for Dean which truly amazed him.

A loud cough brought both the boys attention to their father who was now leaning against a support pillar and motioning them to come to him. Both brothers obediently walked over to their dad.

"That was good, but you still need more practice Sam. Good job Dean, keep it up," John said. "Get inside and clean up. Take a break for an hour or so and then we'll move onto something else," John ordered.

"Yes sir," said Sam and Dean. It had become a habit now. They said 'sir' more than 'dad' nowadays. John walked back into the motel, picked up the keys to his jeep and left through the front door. Only after hearing him drive off did Sam and Dean let out a breath of relief.

Sam walked ahead into their room, his shoulders slumped slightly while Dean followed closely behind.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked. He could clearly see by Sam's body language that Sam was depressed.

Sam sat down on his bed and sighed. "It's not fair. I mean, I don't blame you but still. I try so hard. I do everything he tells me and yet, all I get is 'you need to work harder' or 'be like Dean' and it sucks. Trust me man, I don't blame you one bit but I'd like it if he appreciated my efforts once in a while," Sam explained.

Dean finally understood. Sam and John were always at each other's throats. Sam tried not to get on his bad side but sometimes it was inevitable and a shouting match would ensue which would have definitely turned to blows if Dean wouldn't step in each time and break them up.

"He does appreciate it Sammy. You're doing a great job. Better than me in fact. I wasn't even near as good as you when I was your age," Dean said, trying to comfort his brother.

Sam snorted. "Stop lying dude. I've seen your training sessions. You were way better than me," he said.

"N-No...it's...never mind," said Dean knowing that pushing the argument any further wasn't going to help matters. "My point is, he does know you're working hard. He just doesn't know how to express it I guess."

Sam scowled as he turned to Dean who was sitting on one of the wooden chairs in the room. "Why do you always take his side? He may have been a dad to you when you were a kid, but all I can see is his ex-marine attitude. He's always ordering us around. We can't even have our own opinion around him. He's not a General or something Dean. He's our Dad. The least bit he can do is act like one," Sam snapped.

"Sam – " Dean started to say but was cut off by Sam.

"Let it go man. You won't get it," Sam said curtly. He picked up his towel and clothes and entered the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

It had been 30 minutes and Sam still hadn't emerged from the bathroom. The sound of the shower had been cut off 10 minutes ago. Dean was pacing the room in slight worry as Sam never took more that 2 to 5 minutes to get dressed and come out of the bathroom. He hesitated to knock as he knew that Sam would still have the fight they just had on his mind.

Another 5 minutes passed...then 10...

"That's it," Dean muttered as he walked over to the bathroom. To hell with it. Sam could rant at him all he wanted. Dean lifted a hand to knock on the door when he heard moans from inside which he hadn't heard before. Screw with the knocking. Dean shamelessly started banging on the bathroom door after finding out it was locked from the inside.

"SAM! Open the door!" Dean yelled.

"I-I'm f-fine," came the weak reply. And then came the sound of retching. Dean cursed himself. How did he not hear this before?

"Sam, I swear if you do not open this goddamn door, I'll kick it down and come in anyway," threatened the big brother. He waited for a few seconds and then took a few steps back to summon up the strength needed to knock down the door. Before he could lift his leg however, he heard a faint click that indicated the unlocking. Wasting no more time, he hurried over and opened the door.

Sam sat with his head bowed over the toilet seat holding his stomach. Dean's worry intensified ten – fold.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked gently as he sat down next to Sam. He lifted Sam's head and flinched slightly seeing the bloodshot eyes and tired, sweating face.

"I-I don't know. I got out, got d-dressed and then felt nauseous," Sam explained in a hoarse voice.

"Stomach bug?" Dean asked, though he couldn't remember Sam eating anything bad lately.

"Maybe," Sam replied, moaning slightly in pain.

Dean immediately got up and brought back some painkillers and medicines to help get rid of the nausea. Sam gratefully took them and gulped them down with a glass of water. As much as he hated it, he let Dean help him back to bed.

"Rest. I'll tell Dad when he gets back," Dean said.

Sam immediately shook his head and then regretted it as pain sliced through it. The start of a massive headache, Sam thought. "Don't tell him. He'll only get more pissed at me," Sam argued.

"He won't. And you're in no state to train right now dude. Trust me, I'll handle it," Dean assured his baby brother.

"Fine," Sam resigned as he turned over to his side and closed his eyes. In a few mere seconds, he was snoring lightly.

Dean took a deep breath and ran a hand fondly through Sam's hair. His worry still hadn't subsided. Sam never got sick without a reason. Somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.


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