Leaning against the headboard of the bed Dean let out a long yawn escaped from his lungs. He hadn't been sleeping properly that much since he and his Dad, John, had gotten into that fight, all over how Sam was old enough to take care of himself, though Sam was only seven, but three weeks away from being eight, he was still capable to make his own food, and knew what to do whenever John left whatever motel they were staying in. All that Dean had wanted was to go along with John while he hunted, he had explained to him all the things Sam knew how to do, but still, John had said no, and that he would take Dean next time.
John had said this last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. He always said the same line. Dean knew to never take John's word to the heart seriously, unless you just wanted them to be ignored and forgotten.
"I hate him," Dean huffed out, kicking a stray pillow off the bed, crossing his arms furiously over his chest. "I'm never going to listen to Dad again!" Dean knew that this wasn't true. He was never going to hate John, and he was always going to listen to him, without a doubt or any kind of a smart remark.
Dean glanced over at Sam; he was sitting on a small chair, his legs crossed over one another, watching some kind of cartoon. He had a small crooked smile on his face as one character hit another over the head with a hammer. The two dimples on either side of his mouth seemed to make him look even younger then he appeared to be, around five, maybe.
He continued to watch Sam for another few minutes before he forced himself off of the to hard bed and went into the small kitchen. He then quickly pulled himself up onto the counter, glancing from cupboard to cupboard, and then pulled out two cans of chicken noodle soup, before dropping back down onto the floor.
"You want something to eat, Sammy?" he asked his brother, already beginning to slice through the top of one the cans with the can-opener. "I'm making soup."
Sam glanced over at Dean, nodding. "Yes, please," he said quietly, before turning back to finish watching the cartoon.
Dean quickly finished opening the cans, placed a pot on the already heated burner, and added the soup. When the last of the soup dripped from the can Dean stirred it around for a few moments then used the can to fill it up with water, and then poured it in the pot. Dean didn't stop stirring as the last of the water landed into the pot, he continued for a moment, and then stopped, taking the spoon out of the pot and placing it on the counter beside the stove, and replaced the cover to the pot on it.
"Dean, is there any apple juice?" Sam asked him as he sniffled and scrunched up his nose.
Crap, Dean thought. I'm such an idiot. Fuck. Dean had finished the last of the apple juice just a few minutes after John had left, and a few minutes before Sam had woken up. He had forgotten that Sam would only drink apple juice with his soup. "Uh, no, I don't think so," Dean managed to get out as he began to stir the soup when it began to bubble and froth in its pot, still feeling like a total brat for drinking all the juice on Sam.
"Oh, okay," Sam said. "Could we pick some up then?"
Dean sighed. "I guess. But after the soup is done. Alright, Sammy?"
Sam nodded, and turned back to the TV again. "Okay, Dean."
He sighed, shaking his head slowly as he continued to stir the almost ready soup. The aroma of the chicken seeped its way up Dean's nose. It smelt so good. Giving the soup one final stir, Dean pulled two bowls from a low cupboard, then started to spoon soup into each of the bowls, making sure that Sam had some more soup then himself. After he had finished that, he covered the bowls with plates and pushed them into the oven, so they would stay hot while Dean took Sam to get his apple juice.
"Sam, get your jacket on. We'll get your apple juice," Dean said, closing the oven door, and turning off the stove with a swift hand.
"Already on! Can you zip it up for me?" Sam asked, tugging at Dean's sleeve as he fixed his own jacket. Sam was looking up at Dean with his green eyes slightly narrowed, and a bit of a pout on his mouth. Sam's puppy look. No one could pull it off as well as Sam.
Groaning, in defeat of Sam's eyes, Dean bent down and zipped up his brother's jacket for him. He always did this, John never would, and he would always be in the Impala letting the car run so that they could leave quickly. "There, all zipped up."
As Dean straightened up he grabbed for the small salt shaker that sat plainly on the table, next to the pepper, and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, next to one of the silver knives he had taken from John before he had left. Dean kept one of his hands in his pocket, gripping the handle of the knife tightly, with his other hand he opened the door to the room and let Sam squeeze past him, then turned and locked the door.
"Can I hold your hand?" Sam asked his as he looked at Dean's hand, a yearning look in his green eyes. They were in the puppy pout face, yet again, and he was always managing to pull it off.
Dean looked at Sam for a minute, and then groaned. He held his hand out for Sam, with a roll of his eyes. "Alright."
Immediately, Sam grabbed at Dean's hand, clinging onto it as if it would kill him to let go. "Thanks," he said, smiling up at his older brother with that crooked smile, letting his remaining baby-teeth to be seen. Sam's grip didn't loosen any as they both continued down the street; there weren't that many people out and about.
"Jesus, Sammy, are you trying to pull my hand off my arm?" Dean said as he tried to loosen Sam's mighty grip a bit. He didn't need to though, because Sam had already released some pressure when Dean had called him Sammy.
Sam didn't say anything, he just continued to walk on, and his hair was slipping down into his eyes. His eyes were roaming around the street, trying to find something interesting to watch, but he just ended up trying to tell the difference from one truck to another, and watched as a couple walked down the opposite side of the street and headed into a dark blue house.
The store was at the end of the street the lights still lit, and were shining brightly from the window of the store. Dean could see a few other customers inside, roaming in and out of the aisles as they grabbed some things.
Tugging Sam along, Dean hurried toward the store. He wanted to be in and out. Dean didn't want to be in the store for longer than ten minutes. He just wanted to grab Sam's apple juice, pay for it, then leave. Fairly simple.
The door to the store chimed open as a man walked out of the store, when he saw Dean and Sam making their way toward it he held it open for the two brothers. He seemed harmless enough, definitely not a demon. The man smiled down at the brothers, then said softly," You two shouldn't be out this late, and on a school night. Do your parents know where you are?"
Dean glanced up at the man, with a poker face. "Yeah, our Dad knows where we are," he practically shot at the man as he continued his way into the store, Sam staying right by Dean the whole time, still clinging onto his hand, like a security blanket.
It took Dean only a minute before he found the apple juice, he quickly pulled it out of the small freezer that was sitting at the back, still holding Sam's hand, then turned and made his way back to the front of the store, where an old, wrinkled faced, grey haired, woman stood. She looked extremely bored, and tired, as she watched the last two customers leave the store. When she finally caught sight of the brothers a smile crept up onto her wrinkle, pink, lips. "Oh, look at you two, aren't you just the cutest thing I've seen? What can I do for you two, sweetie?" she asked in a soft, kind, old lady type voice, still gazing at the two boys with a twinkle in her liquid brown eyes.
Dean gave a roll of his eyes, placed the can of apple juice on the counter with a small thud. "Could we buy this?" he questioned the old woman, wanting to leave quickly.
The smile disappeared from the old woman's mouth, then she casted a glare at Dean, disgusted seeming. "I strongly hope you don't speak to your Mother with that tongue, or I'd give you a swift spanking."
Silence.
Sam didn't even seem to want to talk after what the woman had said, to scared it seemed. Dean could only glare at the woman as he clenched his jaw, his eyes seemed to nearly slits as he continued to stare at the woman, he didn't want he to know that she had hit a weakness.
"Just ring us up, please," Dean growled out in barely a mutter, managing to not choke on the lump that was fiercely growing at the back of his throat. He could already feel the tears burning behind his eyes, wanting to escape and let everyone know that she had met his weakness; mentioning his Mother, Mary.
Casting the two brothers a small glare, the woman started to push buttons on the register. "Three seventy-four," she said in a toneless voice. "And how 'bout you tell me where little Johnny boy is?" A smirk appeared on the woman's crackled, aged, lips, her lips pulled back to reveal the top of her gums, her teeth seemed sharper than before, or maybe that was just Dean, her eyes turned into the blackest shade of black that was know. Demon.
Dean stopped from putting the money on the counter and slowly pushed his hand back, away from the possessed woman, and into his jacket pocket, where the knife and salt were sitting. Just waiting to be used. He knew that he was going to have to be careful; John still hadn't decided to tell Sam about the real world. He didn't want to tell Sam about how the real world isn't always lollipops and gumdrops, but how it's really filled with demons and monsters.
Everything is never perfect.
"I don't know who you're talking about. . . ." Dean pushed his hand into his pocket; he could feel the handle of the knife against his fingertips. He wanted to grab it right there and then, and rip out-
"Hey! Leave those kids alone!"
Turning his head slightly Dean saw a man standing there with a mess of dirty blonde waves on his head, a thing spray of freckles along his nose, and a old pair of glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, and a scratchy looking beard that barely covered his mouth, which revealed a nasty looking sneer on his lips. In his hands he carried a large shotgun, small amounts of salt began to flake away and drop to the floor.
Another hunter.
"I can handle her," Dean said glaring at the man for interfering with him. He knew he could kill the demon. He wanted to make John proud of him, let him know that he was old enough to go hunting with him, that he could take perfect care of himself.
But yet, why was his heart pounding against his chest like a sledge hammer trying to knock over a wall of bricks. Dean's heart seemed so loud to him, he was wondering if any of the others could hear it as well, maybe they could. He wished, desperately, that it would quiet, or slow down. He didn't want to be scared, he had to be brave. He had to deal with what was going on. He had to be like John.
Sam glanced at the strange man, scared to meet his eyes he tried to look at the gun he carried. Wondering what he us going to use it for. Killing the woman? Robbing the store? Threatening them for their money? Why did he have the gun?
The hunter sighed, shaking his head. "I don't think so. Go get in the car, my wife will know what's going on, and then we'll take you back home."
The woman growled loudly, making Sam jump and cling onto Dean's arm tightly, hiding his face from both his brother's and the man's view. "What the hell is going on? Is this some kind of trap? Is another one of you murderers pop out and shoot me in the back of my head?" she growled out, glaring at the brothers and the hunter.
"No not at all. Just me and you Abigail. Yes, I remember you, but do you remember me?"
The woman stared at the man, and then smirked, the wrinkles growing on her pale face. "Shamus Black? Is that you?" she questioned in almost a purr, as she leaned on the counter top. "It's been a while."
The man shrugged, and then looked back at the brothers, still standing in the same spot, mystified by what was going on between the Shamus man and the demon, Abigail. "Get in the car you two. I am not going to hurt you, I got two kids myself. Now go," he said in a voice that sounded a lot like John's whenever he told Dean to do something and he didn't want to, feeling that it was wrong.
"C'mon, let's go Dean," Sam whispered, frantically, as he tried to tug his older brother along. Dean ended up following, and then took the lead as they got into the parking lot, Dean looked around for only a minute before he pulled Sam towards a dark emerald green Firebird that sat close to the store, but managed to remain hidden in the shade of the trees that sat above them.
A young woman, maybe around her mid-twenties, opened the passenger door, he black curls dropped over her shoulder as she pulled the seat down to let the brothers into the back, where two other kids, both looked around eight, sat in the back. The girl sitting against the door nibbling on some fudge, and the boy standing on the seat, peeking over the driver's seat watching as the Shamus man still pointed his gun at the demon.
They seemed perfectly normal for what was going on.
"Jump in the back. Don't worry, Dahlia and Alec know what's going on, and they won't annoy you, too much," she said softly, with a small smile on her flawless face.
Dean nodded, pushing Sam into the car first, and then hopped inside. He didn't look at the other two kids as he sat there, with Sam hiding his face in Dean's side with a hand clutching tightly onto a section of his jacket. He tried desperately to slow his racing heart down, but it just wasn't working.
"Are you hungry?"
Dean looked toward the girl, she was holding out a container of fudge to the two brothers. She had a small smile on her innocent looking face; her dark blonde curls cascaded over her small, thin, shoulders like a waterfall, and traveled in different places around her small frame. She's kind of cute; he thought a he looked at her. But, she's younger than me, too young.
"No, thanks," he said quietly, trying to stop from yelling over his racing heart. He looked away from the girl, then to the boy, he was grinning wildly as he watched the Shamus man shoot at the demon, the rock salt bullet blasted through its gut and threw it against the freezer that was in the back, but it ended up getting up, blood spewing from its wound and lurch its way toward Shamus. He just shot again, right in the head.
"Whoa! That was awesome!" the boy said loudly as he banged his fist against the top of the seat, laughing as he did.
"Alec, sit down." The woman gave a look at her son, but still spoke in a soft voice as she patted his fist softly.
The boy sighed, and then plopped down onto the seat, narrowly missing his sister's legs. "Fine."
They only had to wait a few more minutes before a large flame filled the whole store, Shamus was making his way out of the store, smirking with the gun over his shoulder as he made his way to the car. Seeming completely comfortable with the store being on fire behind him.
Dean could only stare as he slid into the car, and kissed the woman softly on the lips. He wished that Mary was around, so he could watch John do the same thing to her. So he would be able to roll his eyes and tell them to get a room, but secretly holding a smile inside him as he watched them. He rubbed Sam's back slowly as he continued to sleep; he had ended up sobbing himself to sleep.
"Alright, boys, so where do you live?" shamus asked turning around to face Dean and Sam. He had a small scratch along his cheek, and was covered in food that must've exploded while he was killing the demon. He didn't seem to be bothered. Not like he would be.
"At the motel," Dean muttered, looking away from the man, and down at Sam. He still was clutching at Dean's jacket. "We're only staying there for a week, and then we're leaving." Dean didn't understand why he was saying all of this. He just had a good feeling about this man, like he could trust him; he did save his and Sam's life after all.
The man nodded then started the car, then held onto the woman's hand smiling at her as he drove out of the car lot and made the car towards the motel. The girl and the boy smiled and fooled around with each other, not really seeming to care about what happened only moments before. What was wrong with them? Weren't they scared? Why did they have to act so happy?
Dean pushed the thoughts to the back of his head, it was stupid anyways.
"Hey, I'm Dahlia," the girl said as she held her hand out to Dean. A crooked smile on her small face, and a dimple on the left side of her mouth.
He looked at her hand, and then shook it. "Dean. And this is Sam," he said softly, not wanting to wake up his brother. He smiled weakly back at Dahlia.
Dahlia nodded, then adjusted in her seat, as she did her shirt lifted up slightly, revealing a bit of her side, and a little piece of white cotton underwear peek out over her jeans, and something else. It took Dean a minute before he saw that she had a knife in the waistband of her jeans. An actual knife.
Dean quickly tore his gaze away from it and looked ahead of him, Shamus had parked the car in the motel parking lot, and luckily the Impala wasn't around. Looking back at Sam, he sighed and shook him a bit, Sam groaned in his light sleep, then slowly sat up.
"We're at the motel," Dean said quietly, feeling the eyes of Shamus and his wife on him. His wife opened the door, and Dean crawled out and waited for Sam.
Sam nodded slowly, not really as a response just an impulse, and then followed after Dean. His steps were short and clumsy as he continued to walk, he looked so tired, it hurt Dean that he had made him come with him to get his apple juice. . . .
Shit, he thought, looking back towards the store, which was currently engulfed in bright red and orange and yellow flames, people were standing on the sidewalk watching it as the flames grew more vicious. I forgot Sam's apple juice.
"Forget something?" Shamus asked from the car.
Dean nodded, looking back at Shamus, and his family. "My little brother's apple juice." He bit at his lip and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
Shamus only smiled then held up the can and tossed it over to Dean, which he just managed to catch before it landed, and exploded, onto the ground. "There you go, son. Lock your door, and do whatever your Father taught you. Be careful." Shamus passed a small piece of paper over to his wife then she leaned out the window and handed it to Dean, smiling. "That's our phone number; feel free to call if you ever need help. And tell John I said hello," he said, starting the car again.
Dean nodded, putting his free arm around Sam's shoulders as he leaned into his side, yawning softly. "I will," he said.
Shamus nodded and began to pull the car out of the lot, his wife smiled and waved to the brothers, Dahlia was pressing her small face against the window, a huge grin on her, as she waved, leaving Alec with only a small corner as he watched them both. Then, they disappeared around the corner of the street, but Dean and Sam stood there for a moment, listening to the humming of the car's engine as it began to fade away.
An hour later the brothers were sitting on one of the beds, Sam curled up at Dean's side close to falling asleep, but forcing himself to stay awake as he watched a cartoon that was on, Dean just stared at the TV, not really paying attention to what was going on. He was to, forcing himself to stay awake.
A soft snore pulled Dean away from looking at the TV, and down at Sam, he was asleep, his mouth opened in a small O as he breathed in and out.
Dean couldn't help but smile, brushing some hair away from his brother's eyes; he kicked off his shoes then lay down on the bed, hoping that he would forget about what had happened not too long ago. He didn't want to remember how the woman's eyes seemed to burn through Dean as she glared at him with her black, soulless, eyes. He didn't want to remember how he had nearly bursted out in furious tears when the demon mentioned his Mother. He just wanted to forget it all.
All Dean could dream about that night was the same nightmare he seemed to be having whenever he came across a demon; seeing the last memory of Mary, pinned onto the roof as flames erupted around her body. It always caused him to wake up screaming and in a cold sweat. But this time, he didn't wake up, it just ran through his head like a record stuck on the same line, it just showed the image of Mary pinned to the roof, screaming silently, as flames stretched out like ivy along the roof.
Dean never told John about these nightmares, he didn't even know that he had seen Mary pinned to the roof like that. He was never going to tell him, or Sam, anyways. It was a secret, and would always stay a secret.