Disclaimer: I own Sam and Dean. I also have excellent Foreign Policy experience... I can see Russia from my house!

New story... Don't know if it'll take, so if enough people like it, I'll continue it. (I swear at this rate I'm going to start hundreds of stories and not finish a single one!)

Another story of mine (Definition of a Human) is my main priority so updates will be far apart. Once I finish DoaH I'll work solely on this one. (If it takes)

Enjoy chapter one!

It was another ordinary, (At least for me) day. I sat inside my brother's Impala waiting for him to come back out of the empty school. He went in with a small blonde about twenty minutes ago. That means I should expect him in between fifteen to twenty minutes.

I didn't mind. Dean deserved to have fun when he could. I was completely content working on school work in the back of the old muscle car. I always felt safe there. Being on the road all the time, constantly moving, it's the only real home I ever had. The impala was home. Simple as that. (I have sworn to shoot myself if I ever say that to Dean or my dad.)

The neighborhood we currently lived in was not, as one might call it, a safe place. Nearly every day, some beating, or break in, or rape happens. That's why I couldn't stay there while Dean is out. Dean would never let me stay there by myself. Dad was on a hunt a few counties over, but because there's no school system or decent (More decent than here) apartments in the area where the Woman in White was most likely to be, he left us here. So Dean picked me up from school then explained how he'd leave me in the car while he go has fun with 'Melissa.'

Being a pretty fast worker, I had almost finished all of my homework except my geometry. As usual I had a headache from working on it. There's just something about the subject that makes it so damn difficult to really understand any of the material.

That's when it happened.

That's when I felt it.

That's when I saw it.

I saw dad. I could only see his face, but I was aware of other things. I was aware that he was tied to an old fence in the middle of a large field. I was aware of the bruises framing his face, obviously from a beating. His struggles and movements were slow and labored as if his body were made of lead. An old rag, serving as a crude gag, couldn't block the soft whimper that emitted from him.

He whimpered! My dad. My dad who saw emotions as burdens, who could keep his cool no matter what the pain, was whimpering! I don't know what happened or why. I could practically feel his pain. It was intense. It had to be in order to bring my dad down to his knees. I could feel warmth that I didn't feel before slowly start to dissipate. Dad's movements and struggles seemed to match the warmth, slowly slowing down and fading.

Then… it was gone. Another image flashed for a fraction of a second before I found myself back in the impala, geometry book in my lap. I squeezed the jacket I was wearing tighter around myself as I shivered. I knew the shivering wasn't a result of the cold.

Dad was dead. I knew he was. I couldn't feel him anymore.

He was dead.

Gone.

Forever.

I cried.

A couple of days later, Dean and I were sitting in another office, with an officer named Burton. He was a plain looking man. Average height, build, weight… His hair was soft brown, his face was shaped like you would picture a stereotypic 'man' to look like.

He shuffled through the papers on his desk, obviously stalling to find the right words to say. I didn't see why he was. We knew the facts. No matter how you say them, it isn't going to change anything.

At least, that's what Dean thought.

I felt him next to me, just like I always have. But now there was something missing. Like a black hole was slowly sucking my brother away.

I felt like crawling in my brother's head to block the hole. No! Stop! You can't have him! He's all I've got now!

"Alright," Officer Burton said. "I'd like to go over the facts one more time." At Dean's curt nod, he asked and we answered.

Yes, our dad was 45 years old.

Yes, he worked as a mechanic, traveling all over the US.

Yes, he was currently in Ashersville working a job, leaving us behind to go to school.

No, he didn't have any enemies. (Human ones, anyway)

No, our dad was not married.

No, he was not dating.

At approximately 6:00 AM, on November 3rd, 1997, John Winchester was found tied to a fence in the middle of a field, naked.

He had been raped, beaten, and choked to death.

Simple. Facts.

"Now, let's talk about who will take care of you…"

"We'll be fine," Dean said.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm 18 years old. I'm legally old enough to take care of my brother on my own."

"Yes, but I would recommend counseling."

"Absolutely not."

"Mr. Winchester…"

"We don't need a shrink to tell us how we feel."

"They can help you and your brother deal, Mr. Winchester. At least, Sam…"

"I'm fine," I said.

"Now what about our dad?" Dean asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Our dad. When do we get him back?"

"His… um… body is in a lab for analysis."

My heart jumped.

"He's being experimented on!" Dean exclaimed.

"No, no! We're trying to gain evidence to see who did this to your father."

"Look, we don't care who did this to our father…"

My ass, I thought.

"…We just want him back so we can cremate him. We wanna put him to rest."

I knew that was only half the reason Dean wanted dad back. Dean didn't think a human did it. He thought it was something supernatural. And I agreed with him. That vision I had…

I didn't tell Dean. I was scared. I saw dad die. I felt him die. I was afraid that Dean might think dad's death was my fault. I did see it… Doesn't that mean I have a connection with it? And even if Dean didn't blame me, I'm sure he'd hate me for seeing it. Why would I see something like that? How disgusting was I to watch my own father die after being violated? So I didn't tell him. Dean was all I had and if it was the last thing I did, I was going to keep him.

No matter what.

Love it? Hate it? Bored? Want more? REVIEWS FEED ME! MAKE THE AUTHOR HAPPY!