7:42 am
John’s face went red as he raised his hand.
Dean’s hand, equally fast, shot up and grabs John by the wrist. John’s hand stops with Dean’s vise-like grip.
“Don’t hit me in front of Sam,” he says, voice low, teeth clenched.
John turns and looks in the backseat. Sam’s curled in a ball, pressed tightly into the corner. His cries had lessened to soft whimpers. He was clearly scared.
“What we do alone is none of your business, Dad.” Dean says stoically
John yanks his hand back. “Except you weren’t alone. And it IS my business.”
“We thought you were asleep.”
“There is no more, ‘we’ Dean. Sam is going to stay with Bobby for a while. You and me have some stuff we’re gonna do.
Sam sits up. “You’re - you're separating us?”
Dean looks back at Sam.His hair is hanging in his face, and his tears are drying on his cheeks. His heart breaks for his little brother.
John does not reply. “Seat belts on,” he says, and puts the car in reverse.
