Title: The Black Parade
Rating: M (for mature themes and violence)
Pairing: not sure at this point...hmm, let me think...
Disclaimer: You all know that I don't own Dean or Sam or Supernatural itself, or the lovely actors involved. If I did, believe me, I'd be procliaming it from mountain tops...literally, I live in Colorado! Also, the title comes from the My Chemical Romance album of the same name. So thanks to all that I'm borrowing from!
Summary: Today was a special day, but Dean couldn't be bothered with that. It was a secret to celebrate this day with his father. Dad thought that his little brother, Sammy, was too young to know what made it special, and besides, he wouldn't remember why. Dean could remember.
A/N: When ideas hit me, it's like a shot, and this was no different. If you haven't already, go check out the video for the song "Welcome to the Black Parade"...it's amazing, and tells a story in and of itself. This story was inspired on a late night/early morning 'net surfing session, which inclucded watching said video and listening to the song on repeat! Also, I've only heard of the Witch Walk from a friend from Massachusetts and don't know much about it, so I'm kind of making it up as I go. If anyone has any information, let me know, because I only see her when I go to work on weekends, and I hope to be well into this story by the weekend!

The Black Parade

Prologue -- when I was a young boy...

Today was a special day, but Dean couldn't be bothered with that. It was a secret to celebrate this day with his father. Dad thought that his little brother, Sammy, was too young to know what made it special, and besides, he wouldn't remember why. Dean could remember.

John Winchester had packed his oldest son in the car even before the sun began to lighten the sky at the edge of the horizon. Sammy was staying with Pastor Jim, and John knew he'd be safer there. Today was about Mary. Sam didn't remember Mary, and John knew that trying to explain what had happened those years ago would be too difficult with a three year old. Maybe when he was older. No, when he was older. There was no way around that.

So here they were, the sun just barely up, on the long road to their desired destination.

Dean, at eight years old, didn't understand why his father chose a different spot every year. In his young mind, it would have made more sense to go back to Kansas for an occasion such as this, but knew better than to speak up. Dad was always right. So Dean didn't ask, and didn't make any smart remarks. Not that, at that age, he knew what classified as a smart remark.

Massachusetts seems far away, but John promises his young son that it's not that bad a trip. Dean nods, yawning again and curling up underneath the blanket he's had all his life. His small, curled frame rests in the passenger seat, a pillow propped against the arm rest of the door, where Dean rests his head.

Once they arrive, Dean doesn't know what to think. He thought this day was going to be about his mother. Not mourning her death, but celebrating her life. Now, he's getting another lecture from his dad.

"They're scum, Dean. Pure scum of the earth. Getting involved in goings on that they can't even comprehend." John's voice is quiet, conspiratorial, and Dean knows why. He sees the column of people walking down the street, invisible inside their black robes and behind their poles and staffs. He sees also the crowd of people watching from the sidewalks lining the streets.

The town echoes silence, secret and dark. Dean can feel the cold press in around him, and he's afraid. But he'd never tell Dad that. John is here to investigate, to research, nothing more. This day isn't about Mary, and it sure isn't about the relationship between father and son. At least not to the casual observer.