Author's Note: Hey guys! Just a little heads up from the author. This story will be written in first person. The POV belongs to my OC that I created. I've had this character stuck in my head for a while now, so I've finally decided to publish a story with her as the main character. She is completely fictional and is not based on anybody. I hope you like her! I have big plans for this story. Prepare yourself because it will be very long. This is just Part One, but do not worry! It is still summer and althoughI have a life I can work fast, so expect an update every 1-3 days until my university schedule starts back up again. The story is rated M, but for those who do not enjoy violence, harsh language, or anything of that nature, do not worry I will post a warning before any chapter that has such content. These first two chapters will be very short, but I plan on making the ones that precede them more lengthy. Finally, I accept all reviews! They absolutely make my day! I even enjoy ones that include criticism (constructive criticism). Reviews show me you care! Now without further ado I present the first chapter! Thank you!
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters. All rights go to Eric Kripke. Although I wouldn't mind sharing Jensen with Danneel ;)
Chapter 1
Green eyes.
If somebody were to ask me what my first memory was, I would say that I remember staring into green eyes. They were the eyes of a little kid that were, in my opinion, too tragic and heartbroken to belong to a boy of his age. I do not remember the exact facial features, nor do I remember any words he spoke as he gazed down at me with such love that it still fills me with warmth to this day. However, I will always remember those eyes. They belong to my protector.
Although they looked at me with love and happiness they also held something else. Looking back, I now recognize the hurt and sadness that lay in those deep pools of green. They screamed anger and bitterness. Eyes that young should have never seen tragedy or witnessed heartache. They should have been full of life and intrigue. They were missing something that every five-year-old should have. Something that gleamed inside of every small child. Something that from the moment it is lost it can never be found again: innocence.
This boy never really had a childhood. His chance at an ordinary life and normalcy had been snatched from him before he could truly enjoy it. Any dreams of becoming a firefighter, a doctor, a teacher, or even a police officer vanished the second those scalding hot flames burst through that nursery door. In fact, since the fire he was destined to be an outlaw. He didn't know it at the time, but it wouldn't be long before he stole his first wallet and unlike other youngsters there would be no scolding or punishment, only praise. Theft is only one of the skills he would acquire, but like his father used to say, "It is all necessary Dean." For his destiny was to save lives. He would grow up exploring the unknown and protecting the frightened. That's one thing he never needed to cross off his dream job list: Knight in Shining Armor. After all, he's always been mine.
I met Dean Winchester when I was only three months old. Sure, my first memory of him actually took place nine months later, but according to my father Dean has been with me far longer than that. In fact, I've been attached to his side ever since he and his family showed up on my father's front porch.
On January 18th 1984 a small snowstorm plagued the tiny town of Gardner, Kansas. The streets, once filled with small children playing in the snow and couples taking down their Christmas decorations, were barren with nothing but piles of snow covering the houses, lawns, and roads. My father, William Taylor sat on the couch with me in his arms as he watched the news when suddenly the doorbell rang. Outside in the freezing storm stood John Winchester, holding a nine-month-old baby. The greeting was brief and as my father let them in he noticed a young boy at only age four huddled behind John, shy as could be. Looking back at him with that adorable toothy grin of his, the young boy said, "I'm Dean." Even back then, Dean Winchester wasn't exactly shy. Dad just smiled and bent down to shake his hand. "I'm Bill," he replied and as he and John began their conversation he sat Dean on the couch and placed me in his lap. According to Pop he could see something change in Dean's eyes. He told me that from the moment I was put in that little boy's lap a companionship had formed. He and I stayed that way, cuddling and staring at each other, for the entire visit.
Even as kids he was always protecting me, blocking me from the horrors that he saw while we were growing up. He was always shielding me from the knowledge of the supernatural just as he did with Sam. There was no rhyme or reason. He had it engrained in his head that this was his job. For years he carried on the burden of being the older brother. After all, his father stressed and stressed that the number one rule was to protect Sammy. Dean just naturally assumed that protecting me also fell under that category. Nothing else mattered. If we were hungry Dean would make dinner. If we needed money for a field trip, Dean would skip school to make some extra cash. If one of us were upset, Dean would comfort until all of the crying stopped. If we heard a noise outside, you better believe Dean was out of his chair with the shotgun cocked and loaded. The responsibility always fell on him and he took it with gratitude. I've loved him so much for that. He was truly my hero. To him, nothing else matter except Sam and me. It was his duty to protect us. All it cost him was his innocence.