Abomination

Summary: Sam and Dean have always been freaks, Sam found out when he was twenty two just how much of a freak he was. It wasn't until the boys are trapped once again by the demon that they find out Dean's little secret that none of them knew about. Just a quick one shot that's been playing on my mind.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em or the show but man… I wish I did.

Wahay! A quick update on this story. I had to get it up – as with most my chapters there'll be spelling and grammar errors but there might be a few more in this one 'cause I didn't get a chance to reread it as much as I wanted but I'll reupload the neater version later… but here you go :D

Forgotten

Disbelief flooded though Dean as he stared into the eyes of the beautiful stranger. He shook his head, unwilling to believe what she was telling him but somehow, the pieces seemed to fit, "I don't understand."

"And it's probably better that way." She answered, biting her lower lip and shifting uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze.

"But… did I… did I kill you?" He looked away and into his empty glass, cringing as the thought passed his lips.

"Dean, you're a good guy…" She began to fidget, eyes drifting around in a nervous manner, "I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have come. I thought I could explain but…"

"But what?" He pleaded, looking back at her as she pushed herself up from her seat.

"I have to… I can't…" Her ambers eyes looked directly into him and it felt like she was staring straight into his soul, "I'm sorry Dean."

"No." Dean stood up with her as she backed away; shaking her head, "Wait!"

He reached out a hand to grab her arm but she moved to quickly, spinning on her heel and swiftly moving towards the bathroom, "Dean… you don't understand but it's for the better."

Before he could say anything in reply, she was through the door and Dean was sure he heard the lock click into place. Shoulders sinking in a defeated way, he simply stared at the door unable to think after being hit with the blow of what he'd been told.

Eyes glistening with tears, Becky paced the small bathroom, mumbling incoherently to herself as her hands moved about her person, as if afraid stopping would 'cause something bad to happen. She growled and stamped her foot on the discoloured tiled floor, "What on earth was I thinking?"

Deciding that pacing was getting her nowhere she pushed her body towards the lone sink with a mirror above it and splashed cool water onto her face. After a few deep breaths she managed to steady herself enough to look up and into her reflection, the second she did her eyes narrowed and her voice was low and harsh.

"You have no business being here!" She told her reflection.

"From what I overheard, neither do you." Her reflection replied as it cocked its head to the side, eyes no longer the soft amber but a murky yellow instead.

"That was not for you to hear." She growled.

The reflection simply shrugged, a wicked smile sliding into place, "I always wondered why that boy had such bad luck."

"You leave him alone demon!"

"Not much you can really do about that, now is there?" The yellow eyes winked at her, mocking her.

"You have no right to…" She muttered threateningly.

"Must have hurt, right? Him just throwing you away as if you were nothing - as if you didn't matter? I bet it did. I bet it broke your little heart."

"He didn't throw me away!"

"Still hurts though, I can see it in your eyes. You've never gotten over it. Must be hard when a charge fires you like that? Right, angel?"

Her back straightened and her shoulders became rigid as she tried her best to ignore the demons taunts. Her eyes immediately snapped to the door as a gentle rapping sounded and Dean's muffled voice came from the opposite side.

"Becky? You okay in there?"

She gazed longingly at the door. She had to warn him… had to let him know that he didn't do anything wrong before the demon had a chance to twist the truth. But as she opened her mouth to answer, her reflection vanished. She stared in puzzlement at the mirror on the wall, unable to see herself and unable to see the dark figure standing behind her.

A rough hand grabbed her shoulder and twisted her around, a muttered incantation locking her body in place. Yellow eyes glinted momentarily before the figure turned to a thick black smoke and launched itself into her shell, pushing her consciousness down into the recesses of her own mind. She was barely aware of the scream that ripped through her throat.

Leaning against the door, Dean could hear Becky's muffled voice and though he couldn't hear the words, it sounded like she was arguing with herself. A hand tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around, a young waitress stood there with a tray in her hand and a knowing look on her face.

"Usually when a girl refuses to come out the bathroom, they're waiting for the guy to go away." She said with an apologetic but extremely smarmy look upon her features.

He gave her a smile and a nod that clearly stated her input into the situation was not appreciated and in reply she shrugged and moved on. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to Becky, gently knocking at the door he called out, "Becky? You okay in there?"

Silence. He turned away and leaned his back against the door, sighing deeply. He lifted his hand heavily and ran it across his face, exhausted and in desperate need of answers. He didn't have to wait much longer before a scream echoed through the door and brought his hunters instincts to attention. Spinning around from his position, he pounded a fist on the door.

"Becky! Becky! Open the door!" He demanded. The waitress from before came back over, her face no longer smug but worried.

"What's wrong with her?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out." He growled at her and pulled her away from the door, roughly trying the handle, "You got a key to this door?"

She shook her head and glanced at the bartender, "Been lost for awhile now…"

"Damn it." He swore and raised his boot, ready to kick the door open.

"Woah, wait! That's my bathroom door." The bartender called.

Dean shot an aggravated glance at the man, "There's a girl on the other side of this door that could be badly hurt, you wanna take the time to pick the lock?"

The man seemed to shrink at the sound of Dean's commanding tone and shook his head. Once again, Dean raised his boot and kicked the door. It barely moved the first time, the second time the hinges seemed to shake and the third time he was through. Bursting into the room, Becky lay sprawled across the disgusting bathroom floor, completely unmoving.

He quickly fell to his knees next to the young girl, pressing his fingers against her neck to feel a strong but extremely fast pulse, "Becky? Come on; time to wake up… come on."

He tried to coax the girl but she showed no signs of opening her eyes any time soon. He moved her head gently to the side and could feel a slight sticking lump, looking closer he saw a cut where she must have hit the floor, "Damn it…"

"Is she okay?" The frightened waitress asked, "She's not… she's not de..dead… is she?"

"No… she's not dead." Dean looked up, "She's got a nasty cut and she's not waking up though, I need to get her out of here so I can fix her up… think you can help me?"

She nodded weakly, moving closer, "What do I do?"

Digging into his pockets he handed her the keys to the Impala, "Follow me out, I'll carry her. I just need you to unlock and open the door… I can't do it myself."

"We should call an ambulance… shouldn't we?" The waitress asked, taking the keys from him.

He shook his head as he bent over and hefted Becky into his arms, "It'll be quicker if I take her… by the time they get here she would have already been seen to."

Nodding again, as if it was the only thing she really remembered how to do, the waitress followed Dean, opening doors for him. When they reached the Impala and Becky was safely on the backseat, Dean took the keys from the waitress and thanked her, telling her that it'd be okay.

"Make sure…. Make sure she gets seen to."

"I will." Dean replied, started the engine and rolling away from the bar. Adrenaline rushed any lingering alcohol out of his system, clearing his mind enough to tell him that he should warn Sam about their new visitor.

On the table next to him, the phone began to vibrate violently, tuneful music playing through the motel room. Sam glanced at the clock and narrowed his eyes; Dean hadn't been gone long enough to get into trouble, surely?

"Hello?" He answered warily, unsure whether it would be Dean's voice on the line or someone declaring they'd kidnapped him or worse.

"Sam… I erm… I'm bringing a girl back with me to the motel." Dean informed his brother, unsure how to put it into words.

"Urgh, Dean! I really don't need to know that. If you want me out the way… just tell me." Sam sighed, slightly disgusted.

"No you dumbass! Something happened to her and she's injured. Won't wake up…"

"Take her to the hospital." Sam suggested, brows furrowing as he noted the tightness in his brother's voice.

Dean bit his lip and looked at his still unconscious passenger, "I can't Sam… I think she knows something about… about why I'm…"

"Fireproof?" Sam suggested, unable to hide the shock from his voice, "What do you mean?"

"I'll… I'll explain when I get there… I don't know but I don't like it Sam…"

Faintly, Sam thought he heard the sound of moaning from through the phone, "Dean… what's going on?"

"I think she's dreaming…"

"Don't say it." Becky mumbled from the backseat, memories taking over her mind as the darkness still held its hold on her, "Dean… I'm sorry… please don't."

Dean froze, blood running cold as he listened to the pleading girl. His voice shook as he quickly told Sam he had to go but he'd see him soon, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd done to the girl in the backseat.

Past

At five years old, Dean Winchester was a very quiet child and extremely reserved – even more so as it neared the anniversary of his mother's death. He also had a habit of worrying over things some would deem as silly and others as downright stupid but sometimes they were the right things to worry about.

"Daddy?" Dean's tentative voice called out from the dark doorway and John turned his head to look at his son.

"Hey kiddo, what you doing up?" He asked. His voice was deep and worried, eyes searching for any sign of scarring or bruises.

Dean walked over to where his father was sitting and just stood, biting his lip slightly as he mumbled his answer, "I was waiting for you – wanted to ask a question."

"And what's that?" John smiled, pulling his eldest onto his knee.

"The fire that took Mommy… it wanted Sammy too, didn't it?"

John swallowed hard and looked at his son whose eyes were pleading for his father to make things all right, "What makes you say that?"

The boy half shrugged but John already knew the answer, he'd thought about the same thing many times over the past year – after what he'd seen in Sam's nursery how could he not?

"The fire's gone Dean. It can't have Sammy. We saved him. You saved him. You made sure the fire wasn't gonna have him."

"But what if it comes back? What if it tries to take Sammy away?"

"It won't Dean. It can't. Fire is fire… it doesn't have conscious thought… it just is." John sighed, knowing full well that supernatural beings were a different matter altogether.

"I wanna protect him."

"I know you do but you want to know what I want? Right now, I want you to get some sleep, okay?"

Dean yawned and nodded, making to jump from his father's knee but John stood up and kept hold of him, carrying him towards his bed. Dean laid his head on his father's shoulder and John could tell he was nearly out of it as it was, it wouldn't take much longer before he was asleep. As he laid his son on the bed and tucked him in, he couldn't help but remember how Mary used to do it… God he missed her.

"Remember the angels kiddo."

"I'd trade every one of those angels if I could keep Sammy safe from the fire." Dean yawned again and closed his eyes, bringing his hand up to cuddle his pillow.

"I know you would."