Disclaimer: Don't own it.
A/N: Yay! I've been dying to write about the traumatized weechester for ages... Happy b-day Anjelicious and thanks for giving me the opportunity to write this!
o-o-o
It had been months since the fire, since Dean had spoken a word.
Sam wailed from the crib in the stranger's house
Dad was gone.
Dean held the phone nervously. He wanted to hide in his silence just a little longer, didn't want to bother speaking up for a world that wouldn't listen, couldn't understand. But Sam was crying, the sitter had stepped out, and it was time he did something.
Breathing heavily, he dialed the number his dad had left for him. When a voice picked up on the other end, Dean swallowed, then uttered his first word in months.
"Dad?"