"Dad?" called a young boy.
"What? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Never mind…."
"Tell me. It obviously was important enough to interrupt me. So hurry up and speak, Soldier!" order an imperious voice.
"Why do you think monsters are real?" came the hesitant question.
The man looked at the young boy with such intensity that it left the child shaking in his boots, John Winchester's face changing from impassive to manic in the space of a few seconds.
"What killed your mom, if not a demon? Are you ignoring the signs, Dean? There were storms! I saw that evil son-of-a-bitch pin her to the ceiling and cut her open! You didn't see anything that night! You were to busy cryin' your eyes out like a little sissy boy!"
Dean almost screamed as his father grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and spit his words in his face. Dean had seen something that night, no matter what his father said. He'd seen an ordinary man in his little brothers nursery with a knife in hand, bloody with the life-blood of his mom drop a match on the curtains as he left through the window down a tree.
But he couldn't say anything to reason with John, couldn't remind John that even though the man who had murdered mom was evil, he wasn't a demon. Because John was to deep in a blurred dream, believing in things that weren't there, unable to accept the fact that such a man as the one who had murdered the love of his life was in fact, human.
John hadn't even been the one to find Mary Winchester first. It had been Dean's screams that had called John from his sleep to Sammy's nursery. But John had forgotten that fact. He had forgotten who he used to be, kind, caring, and loving. All that was left behind of John Winchester was a hard-ass man stuck in a dream Dean had never been, nor ever wanted to be part of.
With a jerk, John let go of Dean's shirt collar, causing him to collapse to the ground of the dirty motel room.
"Go to sleep soon, alright?" John switched from angry, to caring in a heartbeat, and vice versa. At the age of twelve, Dean was already growing wary of the beliefs of his father. Dad would come home covered in blood, sometimes injured himself, but always, he smiled. It was not a happy smile. It was terrifying.
"Dean, wha's goin' on? I heard Daddy yellin'." Lisped Sammy. Just yesterday, he'd lost his two front teeth leaving him with a pretty cute speech impediment. Not that he'd ever tell Sammy that.
"Nothing. Just had an argument."
"'Bout what?"
"None of your business! Now, go to sleep!"
"Jerk!"
"Bitch!"
"Don' call me a bi-"
"BOYS! GO TO BED!" yelled John from the living room.
Immediately, silence fell. That didn't stop the ensuing tussle for the bed. Sam lost, but upon seeing his little brothers face, Dean sighed and gave Sammy the bed and took the floor, leaving the eight year old triumphant.
"Get in the car, now!" When the boys had awoken, it was to find that all their meager possessions were packed into the Impala, once again.
Sammy had his bitch face on, Dean noticed. Acting quickly, he stuffed a stale cinnamon bun from the motel in Sammy's mouth, cutting off the impending storm before it had a chance to brew any longer.
They left the small town in Illinois and made the long journey to Bobby's house in North Dakota, John studiously ignoring any questions and yelling at the boys if the made so much as spoke a word.
Upon arrival to the Junk Yard, John told Dean to grab a bag of Sam's things, and Sammy, who was fast asleep.
"Bobby!" called John.
"Keep yer goddam hair on!" came an annoyed reply.
A middle aged man ambled out of the ramshackle house with a ball cap firmly tucked onto his head, stubble covering his face, with plaid and denim clothes.
"John, what in the Hell are you doin' here?"
"Drink some of this." John shoved a flask of what Dean believed was holy water at Bobby, who took one look at it and sighed.
"Still doing this shit?" muttered Bobby, before sipping the flask. "There. Yah happy?"
John ignored him in favor of walking into the house, Dean following close behind lugging Sammy and Sammy's bag. Dean's mind whirred with questions. Why were they at Uncle Bobby's? Last time they were here, Bobby and John had gotten into a big argument that ended with the Winchesters storming away in the dead of night.
"We're leaving Sam with you for a while, Bobby. I'm taking Dean with me to do the job this time."
The words sounded strangely ominous, as though they held a deeper meaning than what was being said on the surface. Bobby's eyes flicked to Dean's, the wrinkles deepening in his face.
"And what job is this?" asked Bobby.
"Nothing you need to worry about…"muttered John, staring strangely off into the distance for a minute, before shaking himself out of whatever thoughts had taken hold of him.
"Why do you need Dean, John?"
"Need to look reliable to get this job. Sam's to much work to take care of, and Dean knows to keep himself happy."
Dean's arms began to shake with the weight of a sleeping eight year old and heavy bag combined.
"Dean, set Sammy down on the couch." Said Bobby. He opened his mouth to say something more, but was interrupted by John.
"Dean, get in the car as soon as you put Sam down."
"Yes, sir!"
Gently, Dean tucked Sammy onto the couch, shaking him awake. Blearily, Sammy looked around him, confused at the change in surroundings. "Dean?"
"Hey, don't worry, me an dad are going some where for a little while…you get to stay here with Bobby! You even get to go to school here, you know?"
"Why aren't you staying?"
'I don't know.' Thought Dean miserably, before he forced a smile on his face and said, "Because you're a whiner, that's why. I gotta get going…go back to sleep, yeah?"
"M'kay." Whispered Sammy sleepily. "Love you…."
"Yeah, me too. Love you, Sammy." Dean started to walk out of the living room, before he stopped at the door way filled with the urge to look back. Sam was already asleep.
There was a heavy feeling in his chest.
"Dean… be careful, and call me if you need any sort of help at all, you hear me?" said Bobby, his eyes worried.
"I'll be fine. Take care of Sammy!" he shouted as he closed the door and walked to the Impala, each step making the heavy feeling in his chest heavier and heavier.
"Get in Dean."
"Yes, Sir."
"Time for you to learn the new family business, Dean."
"…Yes, Sir."
Hi. So the BAU will be introduced in the next chapter. I already have a similar story to this posted, but I'm sorry to say that the way I handled the end of that story was lackluster. Sooo…. this is my attempt at reparations….
Please tell me what you think
Quinn