November 2, 1983

Dean remembers every part of that night in clear detail. The voice of his father yelling at him echoed through his mind, "Take your brother outside as fast as you can, don't look back. Now, Dean! Go!" He could see the flames devouring the ceiling, could still feel the bite of the cold November air, the cold feeling of them Impala underneath him as he edged closer to his father's side, and he could still remember him. A young boy, the same age as Dean himself, standing in the shadow of the Impala, hidden partially by a tree. Dean had never seen this boy before, where did he come from? He just could not figure out who the boy was. Dean remembered the boy well; he had dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and was overdressed in a tan jacket with a blue tie. Maybe the boy had just left church, it was a Wednesday night, but then again where were his parents? Four year old boys don't just wonder around in the dark alone. And, perhaps strangest of all, no one else reported seeing another young boy by the Impala. When everyone else asked about the boy they shrugged it off as a shadow, or a hallucination induced by the trauma. But Dean remembered everything about that night, and that boy was not fake.

November 20, 1983

Nearly three weeks had passed and Dean wasn't talking much, and when he did talk it was to ask about "the angel boy". The only person Dean would talk to on a regular basis was his baby brother. Sam cried all of the time, missing his mother, but when Dean told him stories about the angel boy he stopped crying. Occasionally he would ask John about the boy, but John always dismissed the questions believing Dean had just been imagining the boy. John had started traveling with the boys, often leaving them in the care of friends. In this case they were with Ellen at the Roadhouse. Dean thought Ellen was nice, but he couldn't help wondering when they were going home. He missed his bed and all of his toys. Most of all he missed his mom. Dean didn't fully understand everything, but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to see his mom ever again. He was starting to wonder if he would ever see his house ever again, and John was gone so often Dean was starting to miss his dad along with everything else. John went out with Bill, Ellen's husband, every day. Sometimes they would be gone for days at a time. Ellen said they went off to hunt, but Dean hadn't seen any animals around and wasn't sure what exactly they were hunting. He would over hear conversations about werewolves and other creatures whose names he didn't recognize, but Dean didn't know why they loved talking about creatures from storybooks.

It had been a long, boring day and John had been gone for a few days so when Dean looked through the window and saw John and Bill approaching he ran outside to greet them. A gunshot pierced the air and Dean stood still, fear making him immobile. Another shot rang out and Dean jumped behind the Impala, just barely peeking over the hood trying to make sure his dad was not injured. Now he could see that there was a third person with John and Bill, but this person appeared to be backing away from them. Why was he scared of them? Why were there guns pointed at this man? As Dean tried to process the information a third shot was fired. This was another moment that Dean would remember for the rest of his life; the smoky, slightly metallic smell of gunpowder, the orange-red of the setting sun, the limp body of the third man falling to the ground, and him. As he stood there transfixed by the sight of a dead man Dean felt a presence behind him. He turned around slowly, scared of what might be standing behind him. But as soon as Dean saw the angel boy a sense of calm enveloped him. The same feeling he remembered from that night several weeks earlier. The feeling that made him know that this boy was an angel. The boy held a finger up to his lips and reached out with his other hand to touch Dean's shoulder. The boy did not speak but instead nodded towards the two hunters, encouraging Dean to go to them. A feeling of warmth and courage ran through him, powering him to turn around and run out to John.

"Dad?" John turned around, a look of dread filling his eyes.

"Dean, go inside right now. You shouldn't be out here." He didn't look angry, but Dean was still frightened of him. He didn't try to argue; instead he wordlessly turned around and ran back to the roadhouse.

Nearly half an hour had passed since Dean had witnessed the shooting. Once he had gone inside he had sat down on the couch with Sammy, trying to get his brother to sleep. The television was playing softly in the background, just loud enough to lull the older brother to sleep while the younger one stayed awake in his arms. Sam had not slept easily in weeks. Ellen gently picked up the 6 month old, doing her best not to wake Dean up. Her attempts were in vain when the door swung open moments later by John and Bill. They were covered in dirt and grime and looked exhausted. Ellen, seeing that Dean had been woken up, handed Sam back to him then quickly got the two men and herself a beer. Bill and Ellen sat down at the bar while John went and sat by Dean who cuddled into his side and looked up with questioning eyes.

"Why'd you kill him, Dad?" Dean's voice cracked and he looked down, scared that John would be upset with him.

"You should have stayed inside, Dean. It's dangerous out there."His eyes were mixed with anger and concern.

"But why, Dad? Why did you shoot that man?" He wanted to cry, but instead he thought of his angel boy. That thought comforted him and he was able to look at John again, "please tell me."

"Dean, that wasn't…I mean that…I know what you think it looked like. But I want you to know that who I shot, what I shot, was not human. You see, Dean, there are things out there, things that most people say are fairytales, and they're real. And these, things, they kill people. And that man, what looked like a man that I shot is one of those things. He has killed a lot of people, Dean, and I couldn't let that happen. So I had to shoot him. I had to, do you understand?"

"Yeah, Dad, I do." Dean paused, thinking things over, "Dad, did one of those things kill Mom? Is that why you shot it? Was he the one that killed her?" For being so young Dean was quite perceptive. John wasn't sure about how to answer all of his questions. He looked down at Dean who was still holding Sam and wished these small boys didn't have to go through this. But he knew that the truth was the best option at this point.

"The one that I killed today was not the one that killed your mother. I'm not sure who or what killed her, but trust me as soon as I know what did it I will make sure they never kill again. I promise that I'm not going to let anything hurt you or Sam. But you have to help me; I'm not always going to be able to look after you boys every minute of every day. Promise me that you'll watch over Sammy, don't let anything hurt him. This will be your job as an older brother. Can you do that for me, Dean?"

"I promise Dad," Dean looked down at the baby who had finally fallen asleep, "I won't let anything happen to him. I promise."John stood up, grabbed Dean and Sam in his arms, and carried them to a bed.

"Good night, Dean."

"'Night, Dad." John left the room and went back to the bar where Ellen and Bill were still talking. Dean knew he should sleep but the events of the day weighed heavily on his mind and he still could not get the angel boy off of his mind. What was his name? Was he really an angel, or one of these bad things that his dad had been talking about? He didn't seem bad, not really, so Dean didn't think that his Dad would have to kill the angel boy. Dean fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of the angel boy turning into an evil storybook creature. He didn't' sleep well until he felt that same warm presence from earlier. His angel boy was watching over him.