Under normal circumstances, I would speak my mind, but with a gun to my head, I decided zipping my lips was in my best interest. The cool barrel dug into my scalp and I grit my teeth, not out of anger, but fear.
"Talk, Winchester; is there anything real about you? Anything we could remotely trust?" the cop squinted in the low light, his one hand clutching the handle of the gun while the other held Dean at the base of his neck, keeping him in place.
Dean snickered, laughing in the face of danger, "My boobs." This earned him a crack in the head with the chamber of the gun. With a grunt and a growl, Dean craned his neck to look behind him at the cop, "Touch me again and I'll fuckin' kill you."
The cop, coldhearted and ruthless, smacked him again while laughing, "Oh Dean, I think you're mistaken at who's in charge here. For once, you don't have your little rebels fighting for you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, voice just as strong as it was before, not wavering any.
"But I think you do," said the cop, and just then, he grabbed the spinning-chair Dean was zip-tied to, and turned him around to face him.
Dean's eyes were wide in shock as they settled on the features of said cop. He shook his head, once, twice, before squinting his eyes, guard up again as quickly as it had slipped.
"Dad," he growled, fingers digging deep into the hard plastic of the chair.
John smiled a toothy grin down at his eldest son, "Let's play a game, shall we?"
End prologue; This is a bit of a time jump into the future, so be prepared to start /way/ before this. Chapter one should be up soon. Thanks for reading!