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DISCLAIMER
Supernatural belongs to the WB, which will soon be the CW. I only own the plot.
Minutes later, John and Dean heard the sound of sirens as fire trucks and police vehicles showed up. The two hunters watched as the firemen worked to put the fire out. For a minute, Dean felt like he was four years old again, sitting in his father's lap, watching as another pair of firefighters desperately trying to put out another fire.
"Daddy?" Dean asked softly.
"It's all right, Dean. It's okay," John softly assured. He put an arm around his son's shoulders, sensing what he was thinking about. He had to admit, he had flashed back to that night himself. But he couldn't dwell on that. He couldn't just drown in his sorrows. Presently, an officer noticed them watching the workers and walked up to them.
"Can we help you, officers?" John questioned.
"Yes. We'd like to ask you some questions," the officer replied.
"Okay. But let's do it outside. It's stuffy in here" Dean agreed. He and his father stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
"Did either of you see anything?" one of the officers asked.
"We were walkin' to our cars when we saw the fire. A kid came runnin' out, collapsed in my dad's arms," Dean told them.
"Do you know where we can find this kid?" the officer asked. Dean opened his mouth to answer, but John beat him to it.
"He's with us. But he's not up for questions. He was pretty hysterical," he stated.
"Here's my card. You'll give me a call if you you can think of anything else?" the officer asked.
"Of course," John nodded. The officers tipped their hats and then left. John and Dean went back inside and closed the door.
"What do we do, Dad?" Dean asked.
"I don't know, Dean," John replied.
"Who do you think that kid is? And what do you think he saw?" Dean pressed.
"I don't know," John said again. Dean blew out a a breath. He hated not having any leads.
"Do you think he saw the same thing that killed Mom?" he questioned a few minutes later.
"Man, I hope not," John said, shaking his head. He wouldn't wish something like that on anybody, not even his worst enemy. And especially not a kid that looked like he was only four years younger than Dean. Father and son looked to the boy on the bed to see that he had fallen asleep. Poor kid. He nearly got killed in there. I wonder what he saw in that fire, he thought to himself.
"You think he'll be okay?" Dean asked. John could only shrug. He honestly didn't know what to do. He had no idea how to help this kid. Oh, boy. What do we do? Just what do we do? How can we help this kid? What did he see? John wondered. What could he do? He blew out a breath and raked his hair with his fingers.