The Runt of the Litter

You Shouldn't Hit Sammy Either

Note: Hey my loves <3 surprise surprise- I actually managed to post two weeks in a row 😉

Thank you all so much for being supportive and sweet. I'll reply to all your comments as soon as I can, but just know that I appreciate all of you 💜💜💜

This week's chapter was a request by a lovely anonymous reader. And I don't want to give things away, so I won't tell you any more than that.

Anna is fourteen.

You Shouldn't Hit Sammy Either

It had been almost two weeks since the boys had been home. So, when the bunker door finally announced their arrival with its usual squeal, Anna couldn't help her excitement.

She dropped her phone on the table and raced through the library and war room to meet the boys at the bottom of the stairs.

She watched Sam drop his duffel and caught the square of his shoulders. He was angry about something.

"Hey," she said, hoping to lighten the mood with her presence. She ignored the tension and wrapped her arms tightly around Sam's waist from behind.

Sam turned just enough to give her a one-armed hug back.

Dean muttered something under his breath, and Anna turned in his direction. His jaw was clenched, a sure sign that he was angry too. So, they'd been fighting.

"If you have something to say, Dean, then say it."

Yeah, hugging Sam hadn't resolved the situation. Anna puffed out her cheeks and looked awkwardly at the ground. Couldn't they have finished this before getting home?

"I didn't say anything," Dean said and raised his hands in surrender.

Okay, so they were at least going to pretend to keep the peace. That was good. She could work with that. Anna stepped over toward Dean and gave him a careful hug.

He smiled down at her and hugged her back. But then he muttered something again. Something about Sam that was not very nice.

"Really, Dean?" Sam snapped. "That's nice."

"What?" Dean asked, feigning innocence.

Anna sighed and stopped hugging him. She couldn't deal with this. "What happened?" she asked, taking no nonsense. She put her hands on her hips. "Are you guys seriously fighting like middle schoolers?"

"Anna, this has nothing to do with you, okay?" Sam said earnestly. "Just... ignore us."

"It has to do with me if you're gonna act like this all day," she argued. "Either talk it out or shut up."

"Oh, I'd love to shut up," Dean said and looked over at Sam with the purest annoyance on his face. "But Oprah over here wants to talk feelings."

"What is your problem?" Sam demanded. "You're allowed to be pissed off, Dean. You just don't get to take it out on everyone."

"See what I mean?" Dean said. He looked at Anna but threw a hand in Sam's direction.

Anna suddenly wished she hadn't put herself in the middle of this. When had she become the marriage counselor? She made an awkward face and looked at Sam, begging him with her eyes to stop the fight where it was.

Sam barely spared her a glance, though. "You know what your problem is, Dean? You still think I'm twelve years old."

"Come on, Sammy, don't start with that bullshit."

"That's exactly what I mean," Sam shouted. "You brush me off. You call me 'Sammy.' And you still think I can't handle myself out there."

"I never said that," Dean snapped. "But there's a chain of command out there, man. It's always been like that. You don't take the hits for me. It doesn't go both ways."