Disclaimer: I don't own Dean or anything else related to Supernatural. I'm simply playing it that wondrous world.
A/N: This is a follow up of sorts to my 'Good Night, Dean' Story. Though you by no means have to have read that to enjoy this, I don't think. :) Reviews are much loved, so if you can, and think to, please do. Thanks :)
Dean had been asleep for a while, his mother had tucked him in and kissed him, assured him that angels were watching over him while he slept. He wasn't even sure what time it was, or how long he'd been asleep when he heard his father yelling his mother's name. Dean got nervous, his father's voice sounded scared, and his father was never scared. He climbed out of bed and pulled the door open. As soon as little Dean stepped into the hallway, he could feel the heat, and see that fiery glow coming from baby Sammy's room. Dean rushed down the hall to see what was going on, he saw flames. His father stepped in front of him before he could really get inside the room and bent down, baby Sammy in his arms.
"Take your brother outside. Now, Dean, go." His father commanded, carefully putting Sammy in Dean's arms before turning back to the room as Dean did as he was told.
Dean rushed down the stairs, scared, not knowing what was really going on, but knowing it was best to do what his father said. He got just onto the front lawn before he stopped and looked up at the house, at the fire that was beginning to envelope the second story of their house. Dean wasn't thinking at all right now about the toys he had in his room, or that blanket on his bed he loved and hadn't slept without in over a year. He was just scared, and wondered where his parents were. That was when he felt his father yank him off the ground and race for the street as something exploded upstairs, shooting flames out the window. Dean's eyes got wide as he saw it. Fire trucks were just starting to arrive, and kept people from getting too close to the house. He sat with his father on the hood of his dad's car, watching from the street as their house burned. Dean still wasn't really sure what was going on, but he had a very bad feeling when his mother didn't follow his father from the house.
Dean kept looking at his father, but didn't ask where his mom was. Some of the neighbors were gathering, and sat with Dean and baby Sammy while his father moved off a bit to talk to a fireman. They sat out there a long time until the fire was out and the trucks all left. The police cars had arrived shortly after the fire trucks, and they were still lingering. His father walked back to them, after speaking with a police man, looking tired and unsure. Their neighbors, Mike and Kate seemed to move things along, suggesting they all come sleep at their house tonight. Dean was looking between them and his father, and saw his father nod before picking him up. Baby Sammy had finally stopped crying a little while ago and fallen asleep in Kate's arms, with Dean holding his little baby hand. His father had to walk close to Kate, because Dean wasn't letting go of Sammy's hand right now.
When they got to the neighbor's house, Mike set up the spare room, there was a bed big enough for Dean, his father, and Sammy. Kate put Sammy down in the middle of the bed, and Dean curled up next to him. He looked at the clock in the room and discovered it was after 3:30 in the morning. Dean had never been wake this late at night, and he didn't like it. Kate tried to tuck them in, while his father and Mike went downstairs for a drink or something. Dean felt tired and scared.
"Try and get some sleep, okay, honey." Kate softly stroked his head before turning off the light and leaving, closing the door completely behind her.
Dean never slept with the door completely closed, it was always a crack. It felt dark in the room, the only light came from the very dim glow around the curtains. He held onto little Sammy's hand, and curled himself around his baby brother. This night was all wrong. His mother was gone. Where were the angels tonight? And how was he supposed to sleep with the door closed and no warm kiss on the head? Where was his 'good night'? That had always made him feel safe, made that 'good night', good. What if there were no more good nights?