Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW.
Note: This is a response to Dana's Mary's Ghost Challenge at Just Like the Riffle. All mistakes are my own. Dean is 16 and Sam is 12.
CHAPTER 2
The house appeared dark as John Winchester pulled his car into the driveway. He wasn't surprised. Sighing in frustration at his older son's lack of respect he got out of the car. His youngest son, Sam climbed out of the passenger's side and ran towards the house. John didn't know why the kid was so excited to tell his brother how the play went. The boys didn't get along and John knew Dean could care less about how the play went. Sam opened the front door and hit the light switch near the door. Nothing happened. Not even a popped bulb. Sam shrugged and headed upstairs. He ran into his bedroom and closed the door. "Mom, the play went great!" The twelve-year-old cried excitedly. No one responded back. "Mom?"
John entered the house and did the same thing Sam did. Instead of heading upstairs John walked into the living room and tried a lamp there. When it didn't turn on John checked the bulb and found it broken. Going to a desk John opened a drawer and pulled out a flashlight. When it came on he saw the rest of the living room in shambles. "Dean!" John yelled hoping his son would answer. When he got none John rushed to the stairs. "Sam, check upstairs for Dean!"
Sam came to the top of the stairs. "Why? What's wrong?"
"He could be hurt." That got Sam moving.
John searched through the first floor, sweeping his flashlight over every inch of every room. He stepped into the back hall and forgot to check the mirror until he heard glass under his shoe. John shined the flashlight at the mirror and felt his chest tighten. On some of the shards still in the mirror was blood. John turned and looked around the hall. There was a little more blood and a bloody handprint by the basement door. The door was open ajar. John opened the door. The flashlights beam barely penetrated the darkness. John tried the basements light and this time it came on. Laying at the bottom of the stairs was Dean. His clothes torn and bloody. John ran down the stairs to his son. John knelt down next to Dean. His son was a bloody mess of scratches and John touched his oldest son's neck hoping to find a pulse.
Dean jumped, startled. His eyes opened. Once a hazel they were now lifeless and barely any color. "Leave me alone!" The teenager scrambled away from his father. "Don't hurt me anymore. Please!"
"Dean, its Dad." John touched Dean's leg and the sixteen-year-old kicked him. The teenager rolled over and tried crawling away. John quickly caught up with Dean and pulled his son into a hug. "No ones going to hurt you anymore. I'm here. I'll protect you." John heard Sam gasp and he looked at the kid standing at the top of the stairs. "Call an ambulance." Dean trembled in John's arms and began muttering about a shadow coming for him.
Sam stood frozen in place as he watched his brother. "Sam!" His father yelled. "Dean needs help! Get it!" Sam finally moved and went to call 911.