Before that night, John Winchester had a wife, a baby boy, a house, a job, a reason to be. The fire was out. Leaving death and darkness behind it. He leaned on his Impala, like it was the only thing that would keep him upright. His hollow eyes screamed, almost as loud as the baby in his arms.
"Here you go kiddo." the fireman held out a blanket for the boy to wrap himself in. The boy blinked at him. He knelt down to the child's level. "My name is Dean. What's yours?"
"My name is Dean," the child whispered.
"Awesome name. Little dude, put this blanket on. I'll get you something warm to drink." He held another blanket to John. "Sir, do you or your sons need a doctor?"
"What?" John blinked.
"Doctor? Are you hurt? Can you breath ok?" he smiled at the crying baby. "Looks like he is breathing ok. Maybe you should take your boys to a neighbour's house. Keep them warm. Dean looks half frozen," he pointed at the boy.
For a second John didn't know him. Why was he being asked to look after him?
The boy moved closer, touched John's hand. "Daddy?"
"Ok. Ok kiddo. It's going to be ok"
After that night John Winchester had a four year old who was so traumatised he would not talk at all, a baby boy and a smouldering hole where his heart was burned out.
Since that night Sam Winchester had a protector, a friend, a brother.
He knew who he was.
Time travel made his head hurt. His heart hurt more.
Not since that day, when he met Mom.
Not since that night Dad put the shotgun in his hands and left.
Not since that life he wanted for his Sammy was scorched away.
"Here you go kiddo" he handed the small shivering boy a blanket. Careful not to touch him, time paradoxes were kinda funky, he knelt down beside the child and smiled.
"My name is Dean. What's yours?"
Since the night a small boy decided he wanted to be a fireman.
