This was requested by someone who wishes to remain anonymous, and is totally awesome! Teenchesters: Sam 13, Dean 17. Homework, hunting, punishment, and stress makes life a bit hellish for poor Sammy. Warning: Triggers for anxiety and panic attacks!

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Sam sat at the table, papers spread all over, and books as well. He pulled at his hair lightly, scribbling furiously on one of the papers. 

Dean walked in to the kitchen, looking at Sam with a faint flicker of amusement on his face. "You okay?" he asked, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

"It's not funny, Dean! This essay is worth 75% of my grade!" Sam said frantically. He sighed in frustration, crumpling up his essay and throwing it across the room. 

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but dad called and needs us ready for a hunt." Dean said, wishing he could let Sam off the hook. 

"What?! I don't have time!" Sam yelped, all the color draining from his face. "This essay is due in two days." he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. Dad needs us both." Dean said heavily, stiffening when he heard the impala pull into the the parking spot right outside their house. 

Sam sighed softly, crossing his arms over his chest, in wait for his Dad. 

John stomped into the house, taking in the difference between the boys stances and steeled himself for Sam. 

"Get in the car, Dean." John said firmly, relieved when his oldest son jumped to do as he was told. "You too, Sam." he added firmly. 

Sam shook his head no. "I need to stay here, this essay is really important." he said simply, a look of defiance on his fourteen year old face. 

"Sam! I don't have time for this! We need to go, NOW! Get in the car!" John yelled at Sam, fed up with this conversation. 

"Dad! I really..." Sam argued angrily, trying to not show the hurt that his dad wouldn't let him stay and study.

"Samuel Winchester, get your ass in my car, before i put it there myself!" John growled at Sam, watching in satisfaction, as Sam jumped up and ran out the door. 

John sighed and walked out of the house, locking the door behind him. 

*****************(Skipping the hunt, since I don't know what to have them fight)*************

Sam had Dean's head in his lap, holding a slightly bloody towel on his older brother's back. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I didn't have your back, and I should have." he said over and over again, his voice quivering as he fought not to break down in tears. 

"Yes, you should have! So, when we get home, after patching Dean up, you will clean all the weapons." John said firmly, as he turned a corner harshly.

Dean groaned at the jolt, trying really hard not to make too much noise for pain. "Its fine, Sammy." he said, clenching his teeth. 

"No it is not! You could have been killed, for what? A petulant child!" John snapped, pulling into the house. "Get out, and inside. I am going to the bar!" he growled. 

Sam clenched his jaw, really hard, as he helped Dean into the house. Once he had slammed the door shut behind them, he heard the wheels squeal as John took off. He guided Dean to his bed, grabbing the first aid kit, and silently set to work, stitching up his brother's torn up back. 

"Sam..." Dean started to say gently, hissing softly each time the needle punctured his skin. 

"Don't Dean... Dad is right." Sam said heavily. "I could have gotten you killed." he said, swallowing hard to hide the lump in his throat. 

"Sam, i'm telling you, i'm okay. I'd rather get hurt, than have you get hurt." Dean said fiercely, not wanting Sam to beat himself up. 

"I know, Dean. Here take these, and rest. I'll come to bed later." Sam said, handing Dean some hardcore painkillers. 

Dean gratefully accepted the pain killers, getting tired of having to hide how much he was seriously starting to hurt. "Fine, but don't be up all night." he said, laying down on his side. 

Sam nodded, slipping into the kitchen, to start the task of cleaning the weapons. He looked at the clock, noticing it was already 11 pm, and knowing it was going to be a really long night. 

He pulled each weapon out, laying it on the floor, until they were all laid out. He scratched at his neck, hissing as it burned the skin. Once all the weapons were laid out, he sat down with a rag and the cleaner, making sure he scrubbed every inch of each weapon. 

Halfway through, he started scratching at his neck, and pulling on his hair, trying really hard to write his essay at the same time. He couldn't focus, as he started panting hard as he couldn't catch his breath. He gasped loudly, praying to God that Dean wouldn't wake up. 

He worked hard to clean the weapons, as the hunt played through his head over and over again. Once the weapons were clean, he wrapped his arms over his head, pulling angrily at his hair. He couldn't believe he had put Dean in such danger. 

He took one look at his essay, crumpled the finished work up, and threw it across the room, not realizing he had finished it. In his haste to get rid of the offensive paper, he had knocked the cleaner all over the weapons. 

"Damnit!" he growled, hunching over as he started cleaning them again. 

He tried to clean, more quickly this time around. It didn't realize how many times he was pinching, nicking, cutting, and hurting his hands. He winced and whimpered softly, repeatedly, as he tried to complete the task. 

It wasn't until he dropped one of the guns, gasping and jumping, as the weapon fired as it hit the ground. His eyes widened, relieved that his mistake had only sent a bullet into the wall. 

Dean ran out into the kitchen, looking around frantically. "What the hell?! What happened?! Are you okay?!" he demanded in a rush, seeing no obvious signs of danger. 

"I'm so sorry." Sam gasped out, his face going white in fear. 

Dean sighed softly, looking over at his little brother. The kid looked like he had been through hell and back again. He could see that Sam had been pulling his hair, scratching at his neck, and the marks on his hands and arms. "Aw man, Sammy, what's going on?" he asked gently, moving stiffly to his brother's side. 

He looked at the clock on the wall, seeing that it was 3 am, which meant Sam had been at it for four hours. 

"I... it... If I hadn't..." Sam stammered, incoherently, as he stared at his hands which were shaking like a leaf in a storm.

Dean sighed, sitting down on the ground beside his little brother, and took his shaking hands into his own hands. "Breathe Sammy." he said gently, rubbing his thumbs lightly over his little brother's hands. 

Sam wheezed frantically, eyes wide, face white almost grey, and shaking so hard he almost looked like he was experiencing a seizure. "I.... I .... I... uh... I...." he stammered over and over again, his voice sounding wrecked. 

"Sam!" Dean said firmly, causing the poor boy to stiffen in surprise. He knew that Sam was close to passing out from panicking for four hours straight, but he didn't want that to happen. 

"De...an?" Sam stammered, ripping his hand away from his brother, and started clutching at his chest. "I...ca...bre...." he gasped out, fighting the overwhelming dizziness hitting him. 

Dean took the other hand that Sam hadn't taken back, placed it over his heart, and held it in place. "With me, Sam. In and out, slow and steady." he encouraged, knowing that Sam would be able to feel his own heartbeat. 

Sam nodded frantically, panting hard, trying to follow Dean's example. "I...I..." he stammered again, not so dizzy but still really disoriented. 

"It's okay, you don't need to talk. Just breathe with me. In when i do, out when i do." Dean said, setting a slow and steady pace for breathing. He breathed in his nose deeply, before slowly breathing the air back out of his mouth. 

Sam copied him slowly, still faintly wheezing as his breathing calmed down. He looked up at Dean a small smile, before he burst into tears. 

Dean pulled him close, hugging his little brother tightly, as the younger man sobbed. "Its okay, you're okay." he said, rubbing Sam's back lightly.

"But you're not." Sam hiccuped, sobbing even harder as he spoke. 

"Hey, come on now! I am okay, hurt yes, but still okay." Dean said, with a soft chuckle. 

Sam leaned back, searching Dean's face for a sign that he was lying. "Promise?" he asked, sniffling as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. 

"Yes, Sammy, I promise. You, however, need a little bit of bandaging up now that the weapons have decided they don't like you." Dean teased lightly, earning a tired smile from Sam. 

"They really don't like me." Sam admitted, blushing a bit red. "How is your back? Need some more meds?" he asked, noticing Dean was making no effort to move. 

"Eh... Please!" Dean pleaded, allowing the pain to show on his face. 

Sam nodded, jumping up and grabbing the needed meds and water. "Here, take these, before you help me." he said, handing them over, as he started picking up the weapons. He was extra careful to barely touch the guns, which earned a chuckle from Dean. 

"Get the first aid kit, and bring it into our room." Dean said, watching his brother closely. 

Sam nodded, grabbing the kit and taking it to their room, before returning to Dean's side. "Let me help you to our room." he said, almost like a question and a statement.

Dean nodded, knowing that if he didn't, it could set Sam off again. He let his little brother help him stand up, groaning softly at the movement. He walked stiffly and slowly, leaning on Sam slightly, maybe more than he wanted to admit.

Once they were in the room, he sat on the end of his bed, taking care of each cut and mark on Sam. He even put some triple antibiotic ointment all over the kid's neck, knowing that the cleaner had seriously burned the kid's skin. 

"All done," he said proudly, relieved that the kid hadn't fought him. 

"Thanks, De." Sam said sleepily. He rubbed his eyes, officially exhausted from the hunt, cleaning the weapons, completing his essay, and sobbing. 

"Bedtime," Dean said, with a chuckle, putting the first aid kit on the floor beside his bed. 

"Dean?" Sam asked softly, blushing as he looked at Dean sleepily. 

"Come on." Dean said with a nod, knowing that today had really scared his little brother. He lay down, pulling his sleepy little brother onto the bed beside him. 

Sam curled up, snuggling as close to Dean as he could, holding onto Dean's amulet lightly. 

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Sam and Dean slept soundly, even after their dad got back home around 6 am. He staggered in, saw them asleep, and the weapons positively sparkled. He chuckled, walking into the kitchen and noticed the crumpled essay. He grabbed the papers, sat down on the couch, and read it all the way through. 

John set it on the table, shaking his head, as he closed his eyes. He fell asleep on the couch, planning to praise his youngest, when they were all up and at em. 

I hope you liked this little story. As always: vote, comment, and request away! Love ya all! <3

I know this is a late update, but its been crazy busy here. And its only going to get busier. But I will still try to update! Hope you all have wonderful holidays!!! <3