Dean- 16
Sammy-12
…
They were so close. John knew they were zoning in on the creature that had taken Mary away from him. He knew it. There had been many reports in the area of fires in which the lives of many women had been taken. All of them had at least one child.
John walked into the kitchen. Sam was doing his English essay and Dean was cleaning the guns. "Get those guns loaded in the truck," John told his sons.
"Why?" Sam asked. John glared at the twelve year old.
"We're going hunting tonight. And you better be ready."
"Dad!" Sam complained. "I need to get this English essay done. It's due on Monday!"
"I don't give a shit when your essay is due, Sam. You're going." His tone spoke only of finality. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Dean was trying to tell his younger brother to shut up. Smart kid. Too bad Sam doesn't listen to him…
"Dad-" Sam's protest was cut of as John carelessly backhanded him. Dean was on his feet in an instant.
John pointed a finger at his youngest, who was lying on the floor with a hand up to his face where his father had hit him. "You're going." John repeated before leaving the room. Sam just glared after him.
Dean rushed over to his brother, helping the younger boy off the floor. "You're a fucking moron, you know that?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "This is just so stupid, you know? I hate hunting. I wish we could live like normal people. Normal parents care about whether kids do their homework or not you know."
"Since when was anything about our family normal?" Dean snorted.
Sammy sighed. "Never."
"Oh, c'mon Sammy, don't be like that. Hunting is not as bad as you make it out to be."
"You only say that cause you like it!" Sam accused. Dean grinned.
"So?"
…
Sam hated this. He hated hunting; he hated hunting with his father. He hated screwing up, and grew very self-conscious of his actions around the man. If he screwed up even slightly, not only would his father beat the shit out of him, but they also ran the risk of getting in a hunting accident. Sam knew the risk of letting your guard down.
Dad was sure this was the demon that killed Mom. It fit all the requirements: It targeted women – mothers – and all had died in fires.
They were on the stakeout. There had been 3 deaths on this block, all within 12 houses of each other. They had been there all day and as dusk began to creep upon them the boys grew tired and hungry. John refused to allow them to sleep. They played card games until John got annoyed and snapped at them to pay attention to the stakeout. At nearly 12 in the morning Dean saw something move in the shadows.
"Dad, I just saw something!" John jumped slightly and looked around quickly.
"Where?!" He was suddenly very attentive and energized.
"Over there. By the side of that white house." Dean pointed. John nodded and took out the holy water.
"Let's go boys. Stay in the shadows and keep quiet!"
John traveled the most direct path toward the house while Dean came in from the left and Sam came in from the right, hoping to corner the demon. John got there first, but Dean and Sam could hear his yelling before they even made it to the scene.
Dean got there second, followed not long after by Sam. They both stared at the scene unfolding before them with shock. Dad was towering over a teenage boy, maybe about 18 or 19 years in age, who was drenched with water but evidently no more harmed than that. Yet, at least. It wasn't long before John, in a rage of discovering the arsonist, was on top of the youngster, fists flailing. Dean's eyes grew wide as saucers as he debated what to do. If he let his father continue with his outrage, he would surely kill the kid. But what would be the consequences of trying to intervene?
He quickly decided that a beating wouldn't be as bad as having to bury the body of this unknown boy. He grabbed Sam by the shoulder and whispered in his ear.
"I'm going to try to stop him. I don't want you getting in the way. Go back to the truck now."
"But Dean-" Sam protested, but Dean shook his head firmly. Sam knew he wouldn't be allowed to stay. Dean would let Dad kill this guy before he allowed that.
So Sam walked back to the truck quickly, throwing glances over his shoulder every couple steps, trying to see what was going on. It was too dark to see anything though. Sam cursed himself for letting Dean send him back to the truck, as if he were a child. He wasn't a child. Twelve years old – He was nearly a man!
He sat in the truck for what seemed like forever before John and Dean emerged from the darkness. Dean looked pretty messed up, but Sam was thankful to see that it didn't seem like too much actual damage. It didn't look pretty, but Dean wouldn't require a hospital trip of anything. John looked… pissed. Dean made Sam sit in the window seat and took the middle for himself, making sure to separate his father and his brother as best he could in the cramped truck cabin. John climbed in as well and without saying a word, took off.
The truck was silent and the tension was high as the Winchesters drove east. Sam had no idea where they were going, but obviously John did. The man hadn't said a word since they left Stockton. It was scary.
After driving for 2 days, the truck finally pulled in front of a nice, white house. Dean was looking around at the scenery. He was sure he'd been here before…
"Wait here." John told his sons before he got out of the truck and knocked on the door. A short, black lady answered the door, gave John a smile, and ushered the man in.
"You have any idea where we are?" Sam asked his brother. Dean shook his head.
"Just Kansas." Dean replied. Sam looked at him.
"Why would Dad take us to Kansas? He hates Kansas." It was true. John rarely took hunting jobs that had him drive through the state. There were too many emotional ties there.
Dean shrugged. He was staring at the house. "I wonder what he's doing in there."
Sam looked up too. "Probably getting information so he can plan another hunting trip. He really wants to find that demon."
"Can't blame him for that. But if he's getting information from her, what could she possibly know?" He really wanted to go look in the house, but the shades were pulled and he could see no way in.
Sam didn't seem as interested. "Whatever it is, he's probably going to be a while. Wanna play cards, Dean?"
About an hour later, just as Dean was suggesting they get out and go find a place to eat (which in the end probably would've been a bad idea, being as the brothers didn't even know where they were), John came rushing out of the house.
And he looked pissed.
The lady didn't come out with him. In fact, they didn't see her again. John stomped over to where he parked the truck and yanked the passenger door open. He grabbed a hold of Sam by his arm and wrenched him out of the vehicle. Dean watched with worried eyes and slow tactics as John shoved Sam on the ground and kicked him.
"YOU! IT'S YOUR FAULT! YOU SHOULD'VE DIED INSTEAD!" Their father seemed to be on the edge of a complete mental breakdown. The tears that he'd always damned his sons for having were now rolling down his cheeks leaving moist streaks lining the older man's face.
Dean felt frozen. He couldn't move his body to help his brother, much too stunned by his father's words and mental state. He finally managed to gain some control over his limbs and leapt into action. He pulled John off of his baby brother, earning a few punches in the chest himself, and managed to get the man far enough away from his brother before John just fell on the ground and sobbed into his arms, obviously letting out all the built up emotional stress since the arsonist.
Dean left his father's side to head over to his brother. Sam had his eyes tightly shut, with his arms around his stomach and his knees pulled up to his chest, being the best defensive position he could manage in his situation.
Sam looked up at Dean meekly. "It was my fault?" Dean's eyes widened at his brother's words. Both of them had known what their father was talking about when he said that. How could they not know?
"No." Dean reassured him. "It's not your fault Sammy." Both brothers chanced a look over at John, who was still sobbing uncontrollably. "It's not your fault Sammy." Dean repeated.