Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW.

CHAPTER 1

In his drunken sleeping haze Dean Winchester barely registered his telephone was ringing. Not opening his eyes the twenty-nine year old man reached for the phone on the floor next to the mattress he was sleeping on. Instead of the phone all he found was empty bottles he managed to knock over. "Fuck." Dean opened his hazel green eyes and spotted the phone next to an empty suringe. He picked it up and in a husky tired voice said, "Yeah?" The room was still dark, so he knew it was late.

"Dean?" asked a female voice.

Dean quickly tried to force the drugs and liquor from his voice. "Hey, Mom. Is something wrong? You've never called this late before."

"It's your father." His Mother sounded disappointed. Dean wasn't sure who she was disappointed with. Him or his Dad. "He's in jail. I…can't go. I need you to bail him out."

Dean narrowed his eyes. The man who had been the sperm donor for him had walked out on his Mother when Dean was four. All he had from his father was broken promises. At least he didn't string his own children along like John Winchester had done to him. Dean may be a bastard, but making his kids think he wanted to be a part of their lives than not being was something he wouldn't do. "Why? Let him rot there."

"Don't say that. John's your father. Please do this for me."

Dean ran a hand over his face. "Fine I'll get him out."

"Have you been taking care of yourself?" She now sounded worried. Dean knew now that she knew. "Pastor Jim saw you out this afternoon."

"What did he tell you I was doing?" His fear was masked by the anger in his voice. They weren't going to send him back. They couldn't.

"You should come back home. At least for a little while."

"I don't want to talk about this now. I'll get Dad out of jail. Where is he?" Dean clicked on the lamp near the mattress to illuminate the crappy looking apartment…that had yellow and silver eyes painted all over the walls. The mattress and lamp were the only pieces of furniture in the place. Dean sat up and rubbed the burn scars on one of his arms. The scars were old and ran on both his arms, his back and the back of his neck. They were the remains of a fire that destroyed his family back in November of eighty-three. The fire had killed his little brother and as far as Dean was concerned his Father as well.

"New Orleans. Stop by the house and I'll give you the money to go."

Dean ran a hand through his blond hair trying to get himself awake and sober enough to do this. "Give me an hour to get around. See you then, Mom." He put the phone on the receiver and grabbed the nearest clothes he had laying nearby and pulled them on. Once he was dressed he grabbed a duffel bag he had and began to pack.

Short time later

Before Dean could even knock Mary opened the door to let his son in. "Gavin, Sam, and Keith are upstairs sleeping." She said as an excuse as she headed into the living room. Dean closed the door and followed her. Once he was there Mary took a good look at her remaining child. He looked pale and too skinny. Generally like hell. She hated seeing him like this, but without having him locked up again she wasn't sure on what to do. "Do you need me to call your boss in the morning?"

Dean shook his head. "I already called him. He was so happy I was taking time off he told me not to come back for two weeks."

"You look horrible." Mary didn't mean to say it. It slipped out and now it was too late. She was glade Dean let it go. "I'm going to get you some coffee for the road. You look like you could use it." She didn't wait for him to argue and left the room.

Dean remained standing in the living room. This was the house he grew up in after the fire destroyed their old one. He had some good memories here, but it just depended on which boyfriend his Mom had at the time. A baby crying drew his attention to the stairs. It had to be Keith. His youngest. All three of the children were from different mothers and somehow his Mother had managed to become friends with all three of them no matter how different they were. His Mother was an
Angel that way. Dean glanced at the kitchen and heard his Mother putting water on the coffeepot. She didn't hear the baby crying. Dean looked back at the stairs than headed up them. When he reached the top the baby seemed to be screaming now.

The room directly in front of him had been his room when he lived there, but the crying wasn't coming from there. The spare room to the right was also quiet. That left only his Mother's room. Dean quickly walked towards it and opened the door. The room was dark, but the shadows of the furniture told him almost nothing had been changed. The only thing different was the crib placed near the closet. The boy was still crying when Dean went to the crib and looked down at the baby. This was the first time he had ever seen any of his children. The child support payments were always handled directly with their Mother's. None of the kids had ever been there. Dean ran a hand over his face. What the hell was he even doing up here?

The baby quieted down and looked up at Dean. The boys green eyes seemed to be studying Dean. It reached one little hand towards him.

"Grandma!" The little girls scream startled Dean and his head shot up to see a little girl in Transformer pajamas standing in the doorway. "Get away from him!" The little girl ran towards him and started beating on his legs.

"Samantha stop!" Mary had appeared just seconds after the girls scream and had to come forward and pull the girl away from Dean. "Samantha this is Dean."

The girl stopped struggling and looked at the tall man in front of them. "Dad?"

Dean remained silent as he calculated what his response should be. "Must be a different Dean, kid."

His Mother's eyes filled with anger. Dean was almost taken back by it. She had never looked at him like that before. "The coffee and money are on the kitchen counter. Take them and get out."

"My pleasure." Dean muttered as he walked past his Mother and Daughter and headed downstairs. He grabbed the mug of coffee and the envelope of money before leaving the house.

From the window of the upstairs hall a dark shadow of a man watched him get into his beat up old truck and drive away. The man smiled his yellow eyes pulsing with evil.