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Chapter 3.
"Dean?!"
"Dean? Where are you going? Dean!?" John called at the fast retreating back of his oldest child. He was bewildered. Dean had thrown his phone, for no apparent reason, away
from him and left the car so fast he could have had the hounds of hell behind him. Sprinting to catch up with him, he was brought to an abrupt stop when a voice called,
"John," He turned. Framed in the door of the house stood Missouri, shaking her head. "Leave him. Let him be. He'll come back."
He had half a mind to argue and had opened his mouth to do so, before changing his mind. He just could not be bothered, nor summon up the energy to. Instead, he went back
to the car, sat on his hunches and picked up the offending phone. He phoned the last call, voicemail, pressed the relevant buttons and gasped. "Sammy..."
Sammy was engaged. He had not even known he was seeing anyone. Him. Dean knew as much, maybe more, about the guy as he did. Angry tears were spilling down his
cheeks as he ran. He didn't know who his brother was. That bothered him more than anything. He, through his stupid pride, had squandered the last years with his brother.
"What did he like? What were his hobbies? How many friends did he have? What did he do all day?"
Dean could not answer any of those questions. The brother he knew, the rebellious teenager, was a distant memory. Dean did not have any clue about that man he had become.
His chest was heaving with barely suppressed emotion. He came to a stop at the corner of an unfamiliar street. There was no-one around. He could hear the distant roar of cars.
He didn't have any clue how long he stood at that street corner.
Anger surged through him, rising unexpectedly to the boil, he made a fist and threw it through the window of the nearest car. Pain coursed through him as he gingerly withdrew
the hand. His arm was slick with blood.
Oddly, he felt no pain. He could hear the alarm of the car whine loudly. He ignored it. He drew back his arm again, getting ready to punch through the window again. Someone
grabbed his arm and threw him roughly around.
Who in the hell??
It was a guy, around his age. He was around the same height as Dean. His face was twisted as menacingly as he could make it. ( Which was was not even remotely scary,
thought Dean)
"What do you think your doing? That's my car!"
Dean would have thought that that was obvious. He didn't waste his breath replying. He just watched the man mildly. This seemed to anger him. Pulling him by his arm, which he
still hadn't let go of, he threw him forward, away from the car. Dean stumbled, lost his footing and tripped, landing with a thud on the ground. Furious, he rose up, ready to
retaliate. Normally he would not bother. He'd just have turned on the charm.
Sorry, normally he wouldn't be putting his hands through anyone's car windows. He punched the guy, hearing the crunch anfd knowing he had broken the mans nose. He fell to
the ground at Deans feet, whimpering for him to leave him alone.
"Coward," he snarled, "It's only your nose. Sammy-"
He never got to finish that sentence. At that moment, he was tackled from behind by a police officer he had not seen nor heard coming. He did not fight. The anger that had rose
within him had gone and he was left with the same awful feeling of loss that not even a car window could shift.