Some tough love, John Winchester style. Just how far would dean go to look after his little brother and what can John do to stop him?

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John Winchester flung open the door to the motel room and then quickly caught it to stop it from slamming in the wall behind it as his eyes took in the scene before him. Dean, his eldest, was lying uncomfortably propped up against the headboard of his younger brother's bed, a pillow on his lap on which rested his sleeping brother. The book that Dean had been obviously reading to Sam was now hanging loose from his right hand, his left hand lying protectively on his younger brother's head.

"Another nightmare, eh, Sam?" John lent down and gently kissed his son's head.

He turned and pulled down the covers on the other bed.

He didn't want to disturb Dean but the position that he was lying in looked painful and awkward so he lifted the pillow and Sam's head from Dean's lap and then slipped his arms under his eldest and lifted him. Dean shifted in his arms and almost woke but John whispered quietly to him and he felt Dean relax, reacting to the sound of his father's voice unconsciously. John frowned at how little Dean weighed in his arms.

Damn kid's doing it again.

He looked properly at his son and took in the gaunt look to his features, his beautiful face so pale except for the dark circles under his eyes. Dean was tall and well developed for his age albeit slim built, but there was no denying now that he was beginning to look positively skinny, his weight loss beginning to finally show. He laid Dean down in his own bed and slowly lifted his shirt. His frown deepened as he looked at Dean's belt. Loosing it he slipped it off of his sleeping son's body.

Dean son we're gonna have to talk about this again.

John leant forward and kissed his son goodnight, pulling the covers up over him and gently stroking his hair.

John walked over to the sink and confirmed his fears. Only one pot, one dish and two glasses lay soaking in the cold water. He lent on the edge of the sink and stared over at his two sleeping sons knowing for sure which son had eaten whatever had been in that pot. He grabbed the whisky bottle from his bag and threw himself down on the chair.

He had been held up on his latest hunt, four days overdue coming back, four days that Dean had had to cope not knowing when or even if his dad was going to walk through the door this time. Four days that John knew his eldest would have made every drop of food and ever cent count. Four days where Dean would have made sure that his brother wanted for nothing, to hell with what it cost him. John poured himself a whisky and fought back the tears, hating himself again for what he was putting his son through.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

John stole himself for what he was about to do, for the next load he was about to dump on his eldest son's head. At least this one, however cruel it may feel, was in his son's best interests.

He had to make Dean see sense over this and this was the only way John could think how to do that.

Dean woke to find his dad sitting by his bedside. The look on John's face briefly made panic rise in his twelve year old chest. His father's was holding Dean's belt in his hand, figuring the new hole that Dean had had to put in it.

"Hey Dean."

"Dad." John saw and heard the wariness in his eldest.

"Sorry, I got held up son. How's it been?"

"Fine, where's Sam?" Dean went to get up but his dad's hand stopped him.

"Out. Didn't we talk about this Dean?" John held up the belt. Dean's face paled.

"I….I was eating dad, honest. I just wasn't feeling hungry these last few days, that's all." John watched Dean struggle with lying to him.

"Dean." The tone in his dad's voice brought tears to the back of Dean's eyes. He lowered his head and fought to keep them inside, the strain of the last few days threatening to overwhelm him.

"Sammy got sick; I had to use the extra money you left for cough medicine. I bought him some soup and stuff. I didn't mean to, but I overspent. There wasn't enough to buy anything else. I'm sorry."

The two words ripped into John's heart. He'd left his boys alone for almost three weeks and it was Dean that felt he had to apologise to him for not coping.

"So why didn't you share the soup and the other stuff with your brother Dean?" John tried to keep his voice even, not show Dean how worried he was.

"I didn't know when you were coming back, I was worried that there wasn't gonna be enough to last until then. I didn't want Sammy to be left hungry." Dean's voice had a waver in it. John could almost hear the unspoken words in the sentence.

Yeah, son 'cos you know what that's like don't you? Damn kid's sitting there thinking I'm gonna punish him for starving himself, Dean what the hell have I done to you?

John changed tack, took a moment to gather himself, not wanting to do what he knew had to be done, already hating himself for where he was going to take this conversation but knowing he had no other option. Dean and he had had similar conversations to this one four times now, John wasn't going to let there be another time.

"Dean, what would have happened to Sam if you'd got sick?" Dean looked as him with questioning eyes.

"Dad, I don't get sick."

True John thought, he couldn't remember Dean ever being ill, but that he thought is so not the point I'm making here.

"Dean, not eating will eventually make you ill and then who's gonna look after your brother? If you can't then he may have to go stay with someone else that can. What if you ended up in hospital Dean and your little brother in care just 'cos you didn't look after yourself by eating properly?"

John almost couldn't look as the remark made concern flash through Dean's green eyes, couldn't bear that he was using his love and concern for his brother to threaten him, to make sure that he ate when John wasn't there.

"If the school notice how much weight you're loosing they might take you and Sammy away from me. You don't want that to happen do you?"

John could feel the guilt of what he was doing to Dean but he knew it was the only way to reach his stubborn son, the only way to stop him starving himself when John wasn't here to watch him.

"Can they do that?" Dean's voice was full of alarm.

"They can and they will Dean. If they think for one moment that I'm not looking after you and your brother properly…." John hesitated to let the point sink in, hating the irony in his words. It wasn't John but Dean that looked after Sam, hell it was Dean that looked after them all.

"I don't want to lose you Dean. You've got to promise me that you'll eat when I'm not here. Do you promise?"

Dean looked at him with such solemn eyes that John thought his heart was gonna break in two. He knew though that he'd reached his son this time, that this time he wouldn't do it again, his fear of losing his brother too great. John watched as the tears finally escaped Dean.

"I'm sorry dad. I didn't think about that. I'll be good when you're gone. I promise. Please don't let them take Sam because of me."

John leant over and hugged Dean to him. "Just do as I ask and it'll be ok."

He stood. He had to get outside, his guilt almost crushing him completely now.

Sitting outside the motel room door John thought, not for the first time, that perhaps the authorities noticing how bad his kids were treated would be a good thing.

He was selfish; he knew that, his boys deserved better than a life lived out of a new motel room ever few months. If he cared about them he'd leave them somewhere, let someone else take care of them, give them the home they deserved, that he couldn't just now. He should, but they were the only thing that kept him going, the only bit of Mary that he had left, especially Dean, so much like his mother it hurt John to see sometimes.

He felt the small arms circle his neck and knew that Dean had come out to comfort him, to try and ease his father's burden somehow and he broke down. He wondered again what he had done right to deserve the unwavering love and loyalty of his eldest child, the child that at twelve was already a better man than he was. Dean had saved him from himself so many times that it was hard to count. He knew he would be lost without him.

Perhaps one day, John thought, he'd get the chance to save him back.