Here comes another one XD Was listening to the song and thought that it fitted Dean's relationship with John. It was initially only going to be short, but as I wrote it, it kind of expanded into a longer fic with più of a storyline. Hope te like it, set sometime between Sam leaving and Dean finding him at Stanford.

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"Dean! Where do te think you're going?"

"For a drive."

"Dean!"

But Dean ignored his dad's yells. He slammed the motel room door and stormed to the Impala. He and his dad didn't get into fights often, but since Sam left they seemed to happen every other day. Dean climbed into the car, started the engine and drove off, not once looking back.

Dean had always been the good son. Sam was the one who caused problems with dad. Yet when Sam went away, it seemed that no matter what Dean did, it was wrong. Was he a substitute for Sam o something?

He was sick of being stuck in his dad's shadow; having to be exactly like him since before he could remember. He did exactly as he was told, no domande asked, yet he received little gratitude.

The silence became unbearable so Dean put the stereo on. The song began to play and he recognised it immediately. To take his mind off things, he sang along.

"I'm tired of being what te want me to be
Feeling so faithless, Lost under the surface
I don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes

(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)

I've become so numb I can't feel te there
Become so tired so much più aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be più like me and be less like you"

Dean tapped the steering wheel to the music.

"Can't te see that you're smothering me?
Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control
?Cause everything that te thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you

(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
And every secondo I waste is più than I can take

I've become so numb I can't feel te there
Become so tired so much più aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be più like me and be less like you"

Dean sighed. He pulled over to the side of the isolated road. He turned off the engine, placed his arm on the steering wheel and then rested his forehead on superiore, in alto of his arm. He gave another frustrated sigh. Everything was silent. Not even the sound of the wind. Not even the sound of a car pulling up behind him. He lifted his head and caught a glimpse of the pick up truck in his rear view mirror. A man got out of the drivers seat.

Great, he thought, here comes dad in a stolen car to drag me back to the motel to yell at me. Come on, I'm 25, not 10.

He was about to open the door, when he saw a secondo man get out of the car. It was then that he realised that it was not his dad. But da then, it was too late.

The driver's door was yanked open and a fist flew in the direction of Dean's face. Before Dean could recover from the blow, an arm grabbed his own and he was pulled from the car. He tried to remain standing, but he was flung to the ground in a heap. As he attempted to get to his feet, he was kicked in the stomach, causing him to groan in pain. He looked up at his attackers and noticed they were a few years older than him. Probably in their early 30's at the most. He had never seen them before; therefore he couldn't understand why they were doing this.

He felt più brutal blows to his face and stomach. Boots hit him all over, he could feel the bruises forming already. His vision was starting to blur and all it took was one più kick to the face and everything went black.

Once the two men were sure that Dean was unconscious, the older of the two signalled to the other to grab him. Dean's limp body was violently picked up and thrown into the tronco of the truck. The younger man turned around to speak to his counter part.

"Hey, Mal…" however he trailed off when he saw his friend lying on the ground, motionless. He turned around quickly and saw a man behind him holding a crowbar. He went to fight the stranger, but was quickly overpowered and pushed against the truck, the man's hand around his throat and the crowbar threateningly close to his face.

"You ever touch my son again, and I'll kill ya. Understand?" when Dean's attacker didn't respond, John tightened his grip on the man's throat. "Do te understand!"

The man frantically nodded and was delivered a veloce, swift blow to the head, knocking him out cold.

John walked to the open tronco and saw Dean lying there, a deep cut running above his eyebrow and a bruise was already beginning to mostra on his cheek. He grabbed his eldest son from the tronco and placed him in the back sede, sedile of the Impala. He climbed into the driver's sede, sedile and headed back to the motel.

When they arrived, he carried Dean's unconscious form to the room and placed him on the bed. John rested down on a chair facing the letto and watched his son sleep. He sighed with relief. If he hadn't got there when he had, Dean would have been kidnapped da those scumbags and who knows what would have happened to him. John shook himself. Dean was sicuro, cassetta di sicurezza and that was the main thing. No 'what-if's'.

It was entirely his fault. If John hadn't been so hard on his son, Dean wouldn't have ran off and ended up in this mess.

He knew Dean was devastated when Sam had left. Even though it had been a while since his youngest had gone, Dean had not been the same. He had tried to act like he didn't care, but John could see right through it. He missed his little brother, and nothing was going to change that. Even though Sam had chosen to go to college, John couldn't help but feel that he had pushed his son away. Yet he didn't let Dean know that. He had to be strong, for him. He had a job to do; he wouldn't let his personal feelings get in the way.

But, seeing Dean lying unconscious on that motel bed, John realised that he was very hard on his children. Always had been. Him being their drill sergeant had made them work and hunt efficiently, yet, like this time, it had pushed them into dangerous situations. And that made him feel sick.

"Dad?"

John whipped his head up. "Dean?" his son was slowly lifting himself into a sitting position on the bed. "Hey, are te feeling ok?"

"Uh, yeah, what happened?"

"Two guys beat te up and tried to kidnap you, don't worry, I sorted them out."

Dean looked shocked, but then he gave a grateful smile. "Thanks, Dad." John smiled.

Later on, John and Dean were packing their things. Dean zipped up his bag and threw it on his shoulder.

"I'm gonna go throw this in the trunk."

"Sure thing." John replied. Dean walked toward the door but just before he left the room, John called him back. "Dean?"

"Yes sir?"

"I'm sorry." Dean gave a soft smile and nodded.

"Thanks." And he disappeared.