Scar Shadow

Chapter 1

Four Years Previously...

Dean was ten when it started, he and six-year old Sam were researching a hunt, Sam was getting pretty good with his reading too. Especially with Dean's broader vocabulary and great teaching skills. John was sitting on his bed, oiling his guns.

That's when it happened; the door was kicked so hard that the hinges had nearly come loose. John stashed his weapon's, wrapping them quickly in a sheet and under the bed. Dean grabbed Sam and shot up, closing the books and backing to the furthest corner of the room. He shielded his little brother behind his back, almost completely blocking him from view.

Two men entered the room, one taller then the other and wearing shades. Dean watched as John stood up, either to protest or to fight back, but he was taken down brutally by the two cops.

Dean wanted to rush in and help him, especially when he heard the click of handcuffs. The only thing that stopped him, was the prospect of leaving Sam alone and unprotected. John was manhandled out of the motel room.

"John Winchester, you are arrested for. . ."

That was all Dean heard, that was all he wanted to hear. He grasped Sam to him and slid down onto his knees. Sam knew something bad was happening, he just wished he knew what kind of bad it was. He held onto Dean with almost as much pressure as he held being put on him.

John struggled against the cops, craning his head around to get a good look at his children. He wished they didn't have to see him go out this way. Damn cops, if only they knew what he really did, how many people he saved (compared to their track record of using mase as a new way to kill), they wouldn't be doing this. Or maybe they would, out of jealousy. Because they managed to save maybe four, five lives yearly. Pay would be crap and most of their day's would be spent behind a desk doing paperwork.

"Come on," Dean muttered as they left, he got up, ran to the door and locked it. "We got to hide the books and the weapons - come on!"

Sam got the books, stuffing them in John's duffle bag and Dean pulled out that plaster in the wall that was barely hanging on and dropped the weapon's covered in sheets in the hole behind it. He then grabbed John's duffle and shoved it in there, so they wouldn't find anything.

Dean picked up Sam as a bulky man and a thin woman walked in. The woman had platinum blond hair and bright red lips, almost like she was bleeding. She walked right up to the boy's, Dean backtracked, trying to keep his balance and maintain his hold on his baby brother.

"I'm Rose Buchater," she said. "I'm a - "

"Social worker," Dean spat, his voice almost like a hiss. His eyes narrowed until they were slits and he turned his mistrustful eyes back and forth from this Rose and the fat guy. "What have you done with our dad?"

Rose sighed, sparing a glance toward her partner. She had a feeling that this one wouldn't make her job easier. "I'm sorry, but John is a very bad man. I'm afraid he is going away for a long time."

Sam looked to his brother and then mimicked his expression back to Rose. She had a feeling that the little boy looked up to his older brother. She knelt down to eye level, only to recieve an enormous amount of spit in her face. She closed her eyes and held her hand out as her partner came to assist her.

Dean smiled victoriously, hacking a little to produce another round of spit. He paused only, when she stood back up and towered over him, coming in his personal space bubble. He glared insolently up at her, like he was daring her to try and do anything.

"Tell me your name," she demanded, cutting to the chase.

Dean laughed. "No. Sammy, why don't we blow this funky town?"

Sam's eyes widened at the codeword and he sealed his lips, willing himself not to say a word.

Rose sighed exasperatedly. "Please, make my job easier. I could just look in John Winchester's file back at the office, so either you tell me here, or I find out later."

"I'm Dean, this is Sam," Dean relented. "And you can go kiss my ass, bitch." God, he loved swear words. They came in such a good use in times like these.

Blinking in astonishment, she said, "Where did you learn such filthy language?"

"Around the same time you stuck your head up your ass. . . Wait, I don't think I was alive when you shoved it up there." Dean covered his mouth with his free hand. "My mistake."

Rose wasn't impressed by his attitude. Maybe he did this as a way to block people out, or as a result of having John as a father. All she wanted was to help get it out of him, help make him talk.

Dean arched his neck around her. "Who's Shrek?" He nodded toward her partner. "Or the Incredible Frankenstein I should say." He smiled when the man purpled with anger, trying to suck in his stomach unsuccessfully.

Rose ran a hand over his face. She had better luck conversing in civillised manner with a brick wall, then she ever would with this Dean Winchester boy. She saw that Sam's mouth was upturned into a smile and that made her heart hurt; poor child, having to grow up around all of this, it wasn't fair.

"Look, you'll have to come with us," she said bluntly. She had had enough of this.

Dean backed up again. "Uh, uh. I don't think so lady. You want kids, marry that guy and make some! I don't do taking off with strangers. Piss off!"

Sam nodded vigorously. "Yeah, piss off!" He piped up, coming to his brother's aid.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

Shrek grabbed Dean by the upper arm, only to be bent over double, grasping his area as Dean gave him a swift kick inbetween the legs.

Rose grabbed her radio. "I'm going to need back up. I repeat, I am going to need backup, over."

Within seconds, two more people were in the room. One pulled Sam out of Dean's arms. Sam screamed and bit, scratched, kicked and punched, doing his best to wriggle free of the man's grasp.

The other got Dean under the arms, having a harder time pulling the elder boy out of the room. Dean was kicking and stomping enough to bruise, and he hoped that would be a memory of him to this bastard.

A black S.U.V sat outside, another man inside it, sitting at the drivers seat. The back, sliding door was opened and the boy's were forced in the back, with the men as Rose got into the passenger seat. Both doors closed at the same time and immediately, they drove off.

Dean sat Sam on his lap, wrapping his arms around his little brothers waist tightly, protectively.

The house they went to was only for the night - Dean and Sam took off undercover of darkness, back to the motel to grab their belongings. It was almost completely deserted, except for the patrolling Police car.

Dean had hold of Sam's hand tightly, ignoring the fact that both their skin was getting sweaty, and harder to hold onto.

They decided for the back entrance; there was less and less chance of being caught if they went around there.

Sam was lifted onto one of the ladders, while Dean jumped up onto a dumpster and leapt like a cat onto the ladder as well, making sure his little brother did not slip and fall. The metal was not a pleasure to hang onto, there was an enormous amount of rust and mould on it, that seemed to have been there for centuries maybe.

When they got onto the back part of the motel, they counted windows and found their own, climbing from balcony to balcony. Sam ended up holding onto Dean tightly as he piggy-backed him the rest of the way.

Getting to their window, Dean pushed it up gently and sent Sam in first, before climbing through himself.

There was nobody in there, which the elder brother found weird, they had just arrested someone, shouldn't the place be swarming with cop's, trying to get something they could use against him, so he would be convicted.

Sam stayed near the window, standing to the side of it, thanks to a paranoid Dean. Dean ran to the bit of plaster and grabbed all three of their bags, stuffing the sheet-covered weapons in John's duffle. It was bulging, but it would hold.

He ran back to Sam and literally shoved him through the window as the door opened and cops came through.

"Hey, you!" One shouted.

Crap! Dean got his and Sam's bag through, going to throw John's bag out but it was ripped from his grasp. He got out, forgetting about the bag; his life was more important then that thing. He went head first out the window and rolled on his back and to his feet.

"Go, Sam!"

Sam picked up his bag and climbed down, his movements careful, unlike the quick and stealthy one's of his brother. When they got to the bottom, they broke out into a run as the cops on the ground came around the corner to get them. They ran as fast as they could down the alleyway, fast enough to put a lot of distance between them and the cops. Hopefully for good.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Present Day

Dean and Sam sat in the motel room they were renting.

Sam was reading a few books he got from the library to entertain himself, while Dean was cleaning weapons that they had bought from being able to hussle pool like a pro. Dean had remembered from when John had taught him all those years ago.

It was still fresh in both brother's mind's about what happened the night their father was arrested. It still wasn't clear to them why exactly he had been apprehended in the first place. John didn't do anything particulary wrong. Though in most people's eyes, killing things that killed others was wrong. An offence.

The brother's still hunted from time to time, whenever there was a close hunt in the area. Dean seemed more preoccupied with other things to be strung up on hunt's that would get them no where.

Sam looked up from his book. "What are you doing?" he asked, getting off the bed to stand by Dean's side.

"Addressing an early letter to Santa," Dean joked, getting a weak chuckle from his little brother. "Nah, I'm just posting a letter."

Arching an eyebrow, Sam asked, "To who."

"To none-of-ya," Dean responded lightheartedly. "My private business, alright?"

"If you say so," Sam muttered and went back to the bed to keep on reading. "I just hope it isn't subscriptions to pornography magazines, like Busty Asian Beauties." It was funny the time when Dean had discovered it.

Dean smirked. "If I was, you would know about it." It was true, there was hardly anything that he kept from his brother, only the really important stuff that Sam didn't need to know about. That he was better off being left in the dark. He addressed the letter and stood up. "Come on. Time to go to the Post Office." There was hardly a time of the day when he left Sam alone by himself.

Sam marked his page and stood up, stretching. "Fine," he grumbled, too tired and bored to argue.

They were about five minutes away from the Post Office, so it wasn't much of a tiring walk. It was waiting in a long line for a stamp and actually sending it off that was the tiring part. Not to mention boring.

Sam decided to go off looking at all the different cards, smiling at the old people jokes and the twenty-one ones. There was one about turning twenty and a comment inside it about being unable to defy the laws of gravity and you were just going to get old and wrinkly.

Dean had gotten through the line and had his letter mailed off and they were walking back home. They weren't tight on money, so he treated Sam to some MacDonalds before going home.

Sam went back to his book and Dean flipped on the t.v when they got back to the motel.

They could be real lazy at times, Dean remembered when John was around, he'd tell them to get up and send them through drills for being so slack. His smiled lifted up his face a bit, though it was a sad one. Anytime he associated with a memory of his father, it was immediately followed up by the day he got arrested.

There was nothing on. Oprah, Dr. Phil, informercials and Day's of our lives. He settled for the infomericial. Eventually, he drifted off into sleep.

He was awakened by a vibration in his pocket and he sat up straight, looking around for the source wildly, before reminding himself that it was his phone. Looking at the indentification, he saw Bobby's name.

"Hello?" He answered.

Bobby's gruff voice met his ears. "How're you doing, kid?"

"Eh, as good as we can." There was a couple of seconds silence. "Is there something you called for?"

"Yes, actually," Bobby sighed. "Its about your dad."

Dean was immediately serious. He climbed onto the lounge and grasped the phone like it was a lifeline. "Bobby, what about dad?" He asked, wondering if he really wanted to know or not.

It took a long time for an answer, and it had already alerted Sam to the fact that something was wrong. He looked at his brother, who's eyes were wide, almost fearful. He wanted to know what was going on, though it was a long-shot that Dean would tell him.

"Your dad. . ." Bobby paused and Dean knew it was a lot of effort for him to get this out. After a few moments, with a sigh, Bobby began again. "I got a call this morning, from the prison. You know he has always listed me as his first caller, because you are always here. Well, the prison called and. . . Dean, he's on death-row. They are going to execute him."

The phone dropped from Dean's hand and he began to panic, until his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he lost consciousness.

To Be Continued. . .

How was that? Now, this is a re-do of the original Scar Shadows-- Which never got far, to tell you the truth! Please review!

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