Short one-shot about Dean's father, inspired cause DH2 comes out today:D
Beads of sweat dripped down his face. His feet threw drops of water into the air as he raced down a deserted alley. He chanced a glance over his shoulder. They were gaining on him.
He turned onto another alley in the hopes of throwing them off of his trail. If he could get away from them, he could go back home, get his family, and leave the country.
A loud yell and a flash of light got rid of his thoughts. He was flung into the wall of a building, and collapsed into the pile of trash on the street.
He opened his eyes, and saw three figures standing over him. They were all dressed in black cloaks and silver masks. The one in the center pointed a stick at him.
"You shouldn't of run, Thomas" the man told him.
The two other men laughed darkly.
"One more chance; join us or die," the man with the wand spoke quietly.
"Never," Thomas spat at him.
A shadow covered the man's eyes.
"So be it, then," he said, and flourished the wand.
Thomas closed his eyes as the green spell raced towards him. He thought of his family; his beautiful wife and his young son. At least they were safe.