Darkening Times

One-shot from my main story, Wolf's Instinct.


841 A.D. Denmark

It was hazy and dark, the early morning clouded over as a storm to the west rumbled by, awakening from their slumber a young boy. Dean Winchester sat up, glancing to his younger brother on the bed beside him, to see if he was also awaken. Seeing as he was not awake, he slipped from under the wool blanket, strewn over their homemade bed of straw and hay. His feet padded through their one room, mud and stick house, his toes cold. He looked over across the room to where his mother laid asleep, the blanket moving up and down with each breath.

Dean heard a noise again, but it wasn't the thunder that he had heard before. A horse! It sounded like a horse. Dean thought excidedly that maybe his father and brother had finally returned from their business. He wasn't allowed to know much, but he had an idea. Especially when the village elders had him training and fighting with daggers. His father and brother where out there fighting. There was no doubt they were at war. A whinnying horse had him opening the door, looking out into the distance. There were two men, silently leading their horses into the shed. It had to be them, Dean thought, who else could it, be. He waited by the open door as the figures finally made their way over, with one carrying a lantern with a flickering light inside.

Dean backed away as they made their way inside, the taller of the two setting the lantern on the table in the center of the room.

"Father?" Dean whispered, though he heard the blankets rustling from across the room to where his mother lay.

"Naw, it's me kid." The shorter stooped down and enveloped Dean in a hug. Thomas. His big brother. He clutched tighter to him as across the room his mother whispered, John and held his father in an embrace, as they whispered to themselves.

"You okay?"

"Do I look well to you ye?"

Thomas stretched his arms wide, showing he was indeed in one piece. Dean giggled and launched himself again at his brother. He tore himself away though and looked for his father, his hero. Who was now leaning over the bed where Sam lay, still asleep, amid the commotion. Dean walked over as behind him the reunion between mother and son was going on. He grasped his father's free hand, but frowned when he felt his father trembling.

"Father?" Dean gasped when he thought he saw yellow, flash through his father's eyes, but quieted himself down. He was being silly, this was his father. But he still shrank away internally, when his father lifted him into his arms. All his fear was forgotten, though, as he felt his father's arms around him. Dean was swung around and he grasped his hands around his father's neck and hugged him. His father's big hands held him too his strong body. He felt warm tears course down his neck. His father was crying.

"Why you sad? Are you not happy to home?"

"More than anything I am happy to see you again."

Dean smiled when John smiled. "Why's you sad then?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, son." John gave him one last squeeze before setting Dean back to the floor.

"You've been looking after you mother and brother?"

"Yes sir!" He stated proudly. Dean was ready to become the man of the house when his father and brother left. He wanted to make his father proud just like was of Thomas.

"Good boy." John ruffled his son's blond hair. Dean just smiled goofily up at his father, utterly content. He glanced over to his mother, hearing her talk to Thomas.

"Goodness, boy! You're burning up!"

"Mother, I'm fine." He tried to swat her arm away from his forehead, but she was having none of it.

"You most certainly are not. You're sweating like anything." She grabbed a stay cloth and dabbed at Thomas's head. Thomas went to grab his mother's arm, stopping her from her ministrations.

"Mother, enough. I'm alright." Mary froze at the sharp tone from her son, but ignored it. Thinking her son's attitude came from being tired and sick from his journey home.

"Now, Thomas, it seems you have a fever..."

"That's enough, Mary!" His father shouted, sending Dean a foot in the air. His father never shouted or raised his voice to them. Least of all his mother.

"Stop fussing over the boy!"

Her face had gone white, but she stopped her fussing. She backed away stiffly, looking at the floor.

"Mother..." Thomas whispered. She shook her head, in shock. She raised her head, looking at her husband sadly. She took a quick glance at Thomas before she made her way back to bed in the corner and climbed under the covers. Beside Dean, John sighed loudly, and placed his hand lightly on Dean's head.

"Best go back to bed son. I'll see you in the morning." John turned to Thomas as they made their way to the door. They were leaving again? Why aren't they staying?

"Father?" Dean rushed to them and tugged on his father's shirt. "Let me come with you!" He thought that proving to his father he could take care of everything while he was gone, that he could join them in their hunts and training. This was his chance.

"Not tonight Dean." His shoulders fell, his heart following.

"Thomas?" He begged. Thomas opened his eyes to reply, but was cut off from his father.

"Enough, Dean. My goodness! Get yourself back into bed!" John shouted, his eyes amass with fury. And Dean was scared. He backed up a couple steps slowly, all the while staring at John, trying to figure out who this man was. And with tears in his eyes, he turned and ran to the bed he shared with Sammy. He dove under the covers and trembled.

Watching this unfold, Thomas sighed. He saw the guilt in his father's eyes after he had yelled at Dean. But he understood why John snapped. Why Dean couldn't some with them.

"We should have stayed away, Father. We are just going to bring sorrow and pain to our family."

"You can just call me selfish then." John faced his elder child. "I was dead and all I could think about was that I would never see my wife's smiling eyes, and Sam's laughter. I would miss out on Dean's infectious smile and never see you have a family of your own one day. But I got a second chance. As did you."

Thomas nodded, silently agreeing. He had thought he was dead after the daggar had pierced his chest. All he remembered was pain and sudden darkness and then waking to see his father above him. Stunned he was sure he was dead just like he thought his father was, a few days prior. As the days went on though, he saw changes. Increased anger and possessiveness. Not to mention both he and his father were able to turn into wolves. The first of their kind. One good thing came of it though. They were graced with having a second chance at life, to see their family once again. Looking around the room, they left the house, the door shutting behind them. The sound of howls arose a while after, not far off, watching over the now silent house.


Would love to hear your thoughts and ideas on this piece! Thank you!