I do not nor shall I ever own Supernatural. All of that belongs to Kripke, etc. However, when I give the word, we will kidnap Jensen and Jared, powerless against this massive fandom. Totally kidding. I'm not super into felonies.

P.S. Huge apologies for the long wait!

Sam looked over at the boy next to him. They were sitting on the step of a vacant building, previously a barber shop as it advertised on the red and white door. Tommy's skin was shades whiter and stuck out more distinctly against his jet black hair. He had just finished telling Sam the details of what happened that day in the gym, and he looked shaken. Sam ran the fine points through his mind; his brain was running a marathon, it seemed. The fact that Tommy had been the only one to see the Dark Man made him wonder. There had been no reports of previous sight of the Dark Man by the object of puppetry, Daniel Healy, nor by Morey McCarthy. But the absent witnesses were dead men, and dead men tell no tales, or so his father liked to tell him when he did something particularly reckless on a hunt.

"Is there…," Tommy cleared his throat and began more confidently, "Is there something wrong with me, Sam?" But despite any bravado the boy tried to inject into his tone, nothing could overshadow the pure vulnerability that showed through his words. Sam looked with concern at Tommy, seeing his own insecurities reflected back at him in the boy's dark eyes. His nightmares that seemed to not be his own, his mother's death. He knew they were linked somehow, his worries not assuaged by Dean's denial. He couldn't give this boy the truth he had been searching within himself.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Tommy. Don't worry about anything," he said bleakly, turning away from the pleading face. Tommy scoffed, cynical beyond his fourteen years. As Sam looked back at the black-haired boy, he couldn't help but notice the purple bruise that had developed beneath Tommy's eye. He'd been too absorbed in his hunting duties to see it before, but now it stood out as stark as a Dean's Impala in a school parking lot full of minivans.

"Like I could…" Tommy began in his cynical tone, the rose-colored glasses clearly removed as early as Sam and Dean's childhood had ended.

"What's that on your face, Tommy?" Sam asked innocently. Tommy's Irish skin betrayed him in this instance. He turned bright red at Sam's discovery and tried to cover up his embarrassment with indifference.

"It's nothing, calm down, Mom," he scoffed, trying to make light of the situation. He paused in realization that Sam was buying none of it. "I stole something. And my dad found out, okay?" Sam's eyebrows narrowed with unease at leaving the situation as it was. He was no stranger to corporal punishment, but that was for more grave offenses. Like letting your older brother get shot on a hunt.

"Listen, Sam, don't make a big deal out of this, okay? It's better than what he's usually like lately. My baby sister's real sick, right? The doctors have no idea what the fuck it is, and neither do we, but she's dying. And she's seven." His voice broke momentarily before pulling himself together. Suck it up, Lynch, he chided himself. "She got worse this past month, and Dad hasn't been taking it too well. When she got like this last time, they told us to take her home. To say goodbye." Tommy paused again; it was clear he was having a hard time talking about his sister. "Dad just removed himself, ya know? He drinks just as much as any father with a lot on his shoulders, but he just stopped doing everything. It wasn't until she got a little better that he talked about anything but work. Believe me, getting angry, getting drunk. I'd rather have that than an absentee father."

"Yeah," Sam swallowed, thinking of how his father had reacted to his mother's death. How would he react if Dean or Sam were dying?

"What does your dad do?" Tommy asked, not able to fully appreciate the can of worms he had just opened with his question. Sam nearly laughed at him, but instead he shook his head.

"That's a long story, kid."

"I've got time." Suddenly, Sam felt all of his reservations about his family's secret fall away. The kid was already involved, wasn't he?

Tommy seemed to take it all in stride. Besides his cursory, 'Are you fuckin' with me, Sam?', after what he had seen, the kid had no choice but to believe him. By the time they arrived back at the apartment, Tommy was already working out the logistics of their lives.

"So, this credit card thing…" Tommy was interrupted by the entrance of Dean. The boy almost shrank at the appearance of Sam's older brother. Despite his cocky, affable nature, Sam knew what Dean looked like to outsiders, and he was no teddy bear. Immediately after, Tommy's protective reserves kicked in and he put up a tough, uncaring façade that could've rivaled Dean's, if not for the boy's significant lacking in the size department.

"Tommy Lynch?" Dean looked questioningly at Sam. His brother nodded in reply. Tommy jerked his head in greeting.

"You gonna hunt the sonofabitch that went all 'Invasion of the Bodysnatchers' on my friend?" Sam was in shock at Tommy. He knew the boy was similar to his older brother, but this comment made him think Tommy had channeled the essence of Dean Winchester and spat it back at him. Meanwhile, Dean's face paled at the use of the word 'hunt.'

"Sam…you have to be kidding me. You told the kid?!"

"Dean, he's not gonna tell anyone, okay? We can trust him," Sam stared his brother down, trying to communicate to him. And you can trust me, he pleaded mentally. For a second, he thought he had actually communicated telepathically with his brother because the 21-year-old relented. He wouldn't have been surprised, what with the freaky nightmares and such. Sam could see it in Dean's face. He stopped trying to channel John Winchester in their father's absence and became himself again. However paranoid Dean Winchester was, there was no way in hell he was going to rival the Winchester patriarch.

"Sit down, kid. We have some talking to do," Dean's tone sounded begrudging, yet softer. Tommy stared at him.

"Hell, no." He leaned against the wall, his hands shoved out of sight into his jeans pockets in true Dean Winchester fashion. Dean looked shocked at Tommy's nerve in the presence of a guy who had a lot more size and seven years on the kid. It was something exactly like he would've done at Tommy's age. Hell, it was something he did now. He looked at the boy's hostility with a glint of admiration. He was beginning to understand why Sammy had taken such a liking to the kid.

As Tommy was leaving the Winchesters' apartment, his mind reeled with all the information he had tried to process with ease. He staggered in the dank hallway in light of his fears come true. Now his friend was possessed? Mr. Healy? Victims were taken at random too much; he wondered whether there was a point to the Winchesters' crusade. They had assured him that there were hundreds others working toward the same cause. Maybe even thousands, they said with little hope. But there were millions working against them. And they had to be stopped, Dean had told him with a determination that pierced him. They told him everything. Their mother, their discoveries, their determinate seclusion from the rest of the world. Now he wondered whether asking Sam what his father did for a living was the right thing to trade for a slice of innocence, although Tommy thought that his innocence had been lost years ago.

He felt the cold summer air hit his face as he walked down Collins Street. He also felt a body ram into him, leaving the cold air hovering above him while he lay on the pavement.

"Tommy?" His brother looked down upon him, his usually curious expression replaced with a frantic fear that Tommy could taste in the heaving pants Jack bestowed from above. "We gotta go, we gotta…" His eyes were wide open and he looked ready to fall over. Tommy picked himself up and grabbed a fistful of Jack's sweatshirt, cupping his neck with the other hand.

"Jack, you have to calm down. Just tell me what happened," he demanded. His heart was already racing with the possibilities. His ignorance was killing him more than any possible knowledge Jack was about to burden him with.

"It's Molly." And his little brother's voice broke, his chin quivering perilously as he began to move his head from Tommy's gaze. He shook his head slowly back and forth in denial of the tears that were about to fall. Tommy felt himself shake with pure terror.

"Jackie, calm down. You gotta calm down. Please…" he trailed off. His face was now streaming with tears as he realized the inevitable had happened. He yanked his brother into his chest, Jack leaning into his embrace.

"Tommy, we gotta go to the hospital. Ma sent me to come get you. She's not…Moll's alive, okay? Okay, Tommy?"

"What?!" He grabbed his brother's face and felt it continue to quiver. Jack wouldn't cry unless he was paid to.

"It's just…it's bad, Tommy." His restless head looked miserable as he looked anywhere but his brother's gaze. Tommy swiped his face and snapped back into determinate alarm. He took a heavy breath and put his hand on the nape of Jack's neck, leading the two desperate brothers to the rest of their broken family.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I promise the real action will begin next chapter. This was mostly set up, but also some nice family dynamics and supernatural stuff going on. Please review, I'm lovin my reviewers, so don't let me down. They are so very appreciated, I cannot even tell you!