Fly to the Angels
Chapt 2?
Summary: Dean has to face his own memories, a trip home, a estranged father, and his own mother.
Pairing: Sam/Dean (gen)
Rating - slight language warning
A/N: WIP - Another take on 'Home', only this time Dean freaks out and can't bring himself to go into the house. Spoilers for Home, Faith, Benders. I'm also taking the episodes out of order this may be a tad exaggerated, but I wanted to have it so that Dean had gone through a lot before the 'Home' eppy, so a las, I changed the order, and also, in this fic Pa Winchester gave em co-ordinates for the Benders, instead of Asylum. Title from the song of the same name by Slaughter.
Links to Scorpions 'wind of Change' provided. wee!Sari might be a bit off, but to be honest, all she had was two entire lines throughout the entire eppie, so getting her 'voice' was up to my imagination. Again, this chapt was going to be intially longer, with two more scenes in mind, but on a plus side... this one is longer than the first one, so by the third, i may have a nice lenghthy one! This is more of a filler anyway

Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters or SPN. This is not-for-profit.

Head back against the driver's seat, eyes shut, and sunglasses, laid gently over them, guilt played a merry game in the pit of Dean's stomach. But as much as it felt present, he still couldn't shake off the feeling of dread, of just being in the same proximity of that building. It had long ago lost its right to be called a 'Home' the night it had taken their mother.

Ok, so the place didn't actually forcibly remover her… but at this moment of time, it was much easier to hate a building that existed then a demon that didn't – or one that hadn't been found yet. He had hoped that their father would have answered his call by now, given reassurances, promises of his presence and a personal need for vengeance. There would have been one time in his life, when he would have believed John Winchester would have rode on in, hero and hunter, pistols drawn. But that whole illusion had been shattered, when there was no reply to the countless calls he and Sam had thrown out like a lifeline, no reply to Sam's call informing their father that Dean was sick, not seemingly caring about what new situation he was sending his son's.

The need for him to call, to hear his voice, burned a hole, deep within his heart. Not that he would admit that weakness to anyone. God, he'd already shown to Sam, within a space of a few minutes, that he was as weak as jelly when it came down to a frigging building that just consisted of wood and a 2.4 family, he couldn't take another meltdown in front of an audience.

"Hey, mister" a voice, startled him and he lifted his head abruptly, removing the sunglasses with he's right hand. A small girl, no older than eight, stood there, outside of the driver's side open window, a big plate of an assortment of cookies bundled up high, being held carefully in her small hands.

"Hey" he replied, giving her a small smile back.

"My Mommy said to bring you some cookies" she said nervously, pushing the plate further into the open window, "she said it might make you feel better".

"Oh" he said, taken aback at her comments, he glanced back slightly, relieved to see Sam and a pretty blonde woman, somewhat struggling with the weight of small toddler cad to her side, talking on the path outside of the front door, "I don't think you're supposed to offer cookies to strangers".

"Silly" the girl replied, her nervous face breaking slightly into a childish giggle, "I'm not supposed to take things from strangers".

"Oh, is that it?" Dean replied, his won face, warming to her. He took one of the cookies offered, "Still, it's good advice though".

The girl looked at him for a second, as if contemplating what he had just said, and then pulling the plate back, she nodded, "I guess so", she paused and then glanced back at her own mother and Sam, "He's your brother".

The way she said it, Dean didn't know if it was a question or a statement, as if she was deciphering how they could be related. Truth be told, neither of them looked like one another. They didn't share any physical trait that would instantly inform strangers of their relation. Their father had once commented on Dean's resemblance to their mother, but with that he had turned away, and Dean could remember for days afterwards, his father's reluctance to look him in the eye. Dean had always thought Sam, had physically taken after his father, and he point blank refused to be pigeon-holed into the 'who do you take after' scenario. He had always hoped he had elements of both his mother and father… but his father was always, it appeared, reluctant to talk about Mary in great detail, instead focusing on the hate and despair her death gave, than the love and happiness she had in life.

"No" Dean replied, turning back to the girl. He watched her eyes widen and he moved his head close to her and she in return, moved closer to him, as if she was being let in a big secret, "He's my geek brother".

She pulled away with another small giggle and a roll of her eyes, before glancing back again. When she faced Dean again the smile was gone, instead her face was replaced with a look that was, in Dean's opinion, much too old for her face.

"Your brother said you used to live here" she stated, her eyes studying Dean.

"Yeah… a long time ago" he said, surprised that Sam had taken the unusual tactic of telling the truth. That's what you get for letting your kid brother take the lead, he thought to himself, "I was even younger than you".

"Were they here then?" she said in such a way that reminded Dean of the young girl from the Poltergeist movies.

"Who?" he asked, his chest tightening, once again, so the word came out breathless.

"The thing in my closet" she said, not taking her eyes of him, "on fire. Mommy says it's just a dream, but I don't think so".

If he thought his chest couldn't tighten even more, he was mistaken, as the interior of the Impala seemed to expand and then retract around him, swallowing him up, like the world was closing in on him. The sound of hiss's and pops of flames assaulted him once more, only this time the sound of his mother's screams had been replaced by his brother's. It took all his might, and composure, not to yank the door open and run after Sam, grab hold of him and get both of them the hell away that house, the house where it all began, and out of Lawrence so that they became distant memories, buried in the past forever.

But he didn't, instead he took in a breath, and steadying his look at the girl, replied, "Nah… think I'd remember something like that".

"Sari!" a voice startled both of them, breaking their locked sight, "I told you to offer him a cookie and then to go back inside", a petite blonde woman stopped a few feet away from the car, toddler still clad, and Sam by her side, "Hi, I'm Jennifer" she said, leaning forward, and offering her hand.

"Dean" he replied, taking her hand, as she firmly shook it.

"I see you met Sari" Jennifer said, indicating with a wave of her hand, to the girl that Dean had spent the last few minutes talking to, "And this here is the food monster" she laughed as the toddler, lazily tried to snatch a few cookies from the plate Sari still held. Sari moved a few steps back out of the toddlers reach, and he gurgled he's displeasure in response, "He's always hungry" Jennifer smiled, "Sari, give him a cookie".

"Cute kids" Dean said, unsure of what to say.

"Thanks" she said, smiling warmly at him, "I was telling Sam that I actually found some old photos of you and your family the other day".

"You did?" he asked, surprised that something as fragile as a photo could have survived a raging fire, and intrigued that there was something that remained of his once lost family.

"Hmm, we better get going" Sam spoke up, moving around the car, to the passenger side.

"Oh, right" Jennifer said, "Hmm, I'll have a look for the photos, if you want to stop by for them before you leave town".

"Yeah" Sam said stood in the now open door, "That'll be nice Jennifer, thanks"

"Come one Sari" Jennifer said, turning around, she offered one hand to her daughter, while pulling her little boy up closer, and nuzzling her nose into his hair, "lets get this little tyke inside".

As Jennifer and her children walked away, Sam slid into the car.

"Dude" Sam said, rushed, "Her…"

"I know" Dean interrupted, "Sari told me, closet. Bodies.Fire"

"And noises, like scratches, flickering lights" Sam paused and looked at Dean, "Dude we've got to do something".

"Like what?" Dean asked, turning to face Sam, deciding now was a great opportunity to take hold of the reigns again.

"Well… we've got to get them out of there" Sam said exasperated.

"Oh! And how are you going to do that?" Dean said, one eyebrow raised in anticipation, "- 'Hi Jennifer, you know those noises and flickering lights, oh and the things in your daughter's closet. Well it's real. And it's coming to eat you and your babies'… yeah, sure because that's the express route to your local asylum".

"Dean…" Sam started.

"No, Sam" Dean replied, firmly, "This is how it goes: we treat it like any other job. Research. Talk to people. Look in the journal for anything we've missed".

"But we know the history" Sam argued.

"You know what's happened here for the last twenty two years?" Dean asked, and when Sam didn't reply, "No, didn't think so"

Sam turned and looked out of the window, one finger playing with the seal, as he traced around the edges, "We could talk to the Dad's partner at the garage".

"He's dead" Dean informed him, returning to stare out of the windscreen.

"Since when?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know Sam" Dean snorted, now exasperated himself, "Six or seven rears ago maybe. Dad went to the funeral. You don't remember?"

"Would I have asked if I did?" Sam replied. He caught the glance Dean threw at him and instantly regretted his tone with him. He still looked crap and on the pale side of being alive, "Sorry… guess not"

"Right" Dean snorted again, wondering why now, at this precise moment, someone had started to play the drums on the inside of his skull. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, and sighed loudly.

"You look like shit" Sam commented, he hesitantly attempted to place a hand over Dean's brow.

"Dude!" Dean warned, pulling his head away, "Moment.Over"

"So, what should we do?" Sam asked.

"Research, talky, journal, food" Dean replied, starting the engine, "And not particularly in that order".

The impala roared its agreement as it roamed away.

like the world was closing in

distant memories, buried in the past

Both lyrics from Scorpions – Wind of Change (both used as prompts to inspire this chapter)