Author's note: It's been a while since I last updated anything, and I apologize for it. Work and real life have not been kind to little ol' me. Expect more updates spontaneously.

02. Fade to Black, Part 1

The next morning, Aiden sat in the doctor's office. He was dressed in a simple white t-shirt, blue jeans, and a red jacket. Beside him was a blond woman, her hair tied back in a loose bun. She wore a burgundy sweater with khaki pants. The doctor they spoke with was named Richard Lee, who wore glasses and kept his black hair neatly cut.

"Good morning, Aiden," he said sitting down at his desk. He folded his hands in front of him as he smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, sir," he answered with a nod. "It doesn't really hurt anymore.."

Richard smiled warmly as he wrote out a small note on his notepad. "Well, don't get so excited, young man. You're still healing. Here," he said handing the blond woman beside Aiden a paper. "I've written out some pain killers for him."

"Thank you," she said with a small smile. She took the paper from the good doctor, reading it over. Aiden fingered at the necklace around his neck. He stared down at the floor with a far-off look. The dream from last night bothered him; a grimace coming over his face. He was grateful to have gotten any sleep. The blond man didn't seem to hear the woman beside him – his aunt – call his name.

"Aiden?"

He turned to her in surprise, seeing a worried look etched on her face. "You okay, sweetie?" she asked in concern. Aiden nodded quickly.

"Yeah. I'm alright."

Dr. Lee started at the young man briefly before clearing his throat. They turned to look at him as he smiled. "Now, I suggest you get plenty of rest, Aiden."

He smiled again then nodded lightly, looking down at his necklace again. The blond woman watched her nephew as her blue-green eyes softened. She couldn't help the light frown that adorned her face.

After their talk with the doctor, Aiden and his aunt walked to the front lobby desk and began signing the release papers. Dr. Lee deemed that he was well enough (physically) to go home with his aunt. But Aunt Miranda believed otherwise. She looked up to the doors as police officers kept the awaiting news reporters at bay. She sighed gently then turned to Aiden; his blue eyes glued on the doors.

"It'll be alright, honey," she said placing a hand on his shoulder. He suddenly tensed up once she touched him as he nodded slowly.

"Let's just go," he murmured. He pulled the hood over his head and shouldered his backpack. Miranda gave her nephew a once over again before placing her arm around his shoulders gently.

Once they stepped out the hospital doors, the reports immediately pounced on them, asking a plethora of questions that Aiden didn't seem to catch. The police held the news reporters back as they yelled to "move" and "clear the way"; upon which, they didn't seem to care.

"Mr. Bridgestone, we have a few questions!" most of them asked loudly over the voices of the officers pushing them back.

"Do you know the attacker?" one reporter – a man with short brown hair – asked, shoving the recorder at the blond man.

"Did your mother participate in illegal activities? Was the attacker a jilted lover?"

Miranda held Aiden close, shielding him as he hid his face in his hood. He felt his eyes burn with tears. He clutched at his aunt's sweater shirt, eyes closing tightly.

Why did it have to be them?

Why did it happen to him?

Nearby, agents Striker and Summers watched in their black Impala. The blond man was ushered into a blue Dodge Durango as the reporters practically circled the vehicle. Striker couldn't help the dark scowl crawl on his face.

"Damn vultures," he hissed. "Every single one of 'em. As if the kid didn't feel bad enough.."

Summers watched his partner shake his head before speaking. "They could be here because of the rumors," he said. "I overheard the waitress at the café earlier—"

"The brunette, right? She had a nice a—"

"Dude. Enough." The shaggy haired man rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "But yeah, that girl. Apparently there's some gossip going on that Aiden killed his mom or that Katherine had some lover who was angry with her – it's ridiculous, really."

Striker looked at his partner with a raised eyebrow. "I thought he came home and she was already like that?"

"As I said, with rumors and gossips, you never know."

The dark-haired man sighed irritably as he sat up to see the blue SUV speed away from the parking lot and upset reporters. Starting his "baby", Striker followed after them; the speakers playing some rock music – much to Summers' dismay.

As the Durango rode down the street and came to a stop at a red light, Miranda drummed her fingertips against the steering wheel. Aiden had pressed himself into the passenger seat and window, the red hood of his jacket still pulled over his head. Blue, almost dark, eyes stared out the window. It was cloudy again and a bit chilly than normal. He closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against the cool glass.

His aunt had turned her gaze to him, a tear falling from her blue-green eyes only to wipe it away quickly. She would have to tell her nephew sooner or later the truth about his mother. The light turned green as she pulled away, turning to the left on 4th Street. Miranda looked up at her rearview mirror. Her soft eyes narrowed, seeing a black 1967 Chevy Impala behind her.

Why did that car look familiar...?

Turning the Durango onto Blackriver Lane, she glanced up to see the car follow suit. She sighed lightly then looked over to her sister's home; the doorway covered in bright yellow tape that read "caution". A female reporter stood in front of the house as police officers search the front and back yard for any more clues. She heard movement beside her. Aiden had sat up to look at the house with a solemn face.

Seeing enough, he turned his head away; not hiding the pained look on his gentle features. Not even his home was sacred anymore.

The blond woman drove a few houses down before pulling into the driveway of a green ranch house. She turned to her nephew who took off his hood. "We're here, Aiden," she said with a brief smile.

He nodded lightly as he stepped out the car warily as Miranda parked the SUV and cut off the engine. Grabbing his bag from the back seat, his aunt walked him to the front door then unlocked and pushed open the door. Aiden walked inside as he immediately found the couch, sprawling over the cushions. The blond woman smiled at the sight once she closed the door.

But outside, a woman watched from the other side of the street. Her hair was black, tied in a ponytail and wore a gothic ensemble. Her deep hazel eyes narrowed as a hateful smirk came over her face. She blinked once, her eyes now an empty black; irises and sclera both..

"Are you hungry, Aiden?" asked Miranda as she watched him take off his tennis shoes. He shook his head slowly then looked up at her.

"No, Aunt Miranda. I'm..." He paused for a moment before smiling lightly. "..okay." The young man laid back down on the couch, resting his head against the throw pillow. She set her purse down on the table in front of him as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Alright, then we'll have tea."

She chuckled lightly once he gave his response: a simple thumbs-up and a tired smile. Turning to the kitchen, she walked in and grabbed two coffee cups from the dish rack. Miranda set the cups on the counter then moved to grab the tea— a box of Lipton tea —from the drawer near the refrigerator. The kettle was taken from the bottom cabinet and filled with cool water.

While his aunt made tea, Aiden decided to watch a little bit of mind-numbing television. He flipped through the channels before deciding to settle on an always confusing episode of...SpongeBob. He huffed lightly.

22 years old, and watching SpongeBob of all cartoons. He could have done better.

He lifted his head as the doorbell rang. Miranda poked her head out the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron (she had put it on in the kitchen, Aiden assumed). She walked to the front door and opened it. "Oh, hello," the young man heard her say. She sounded surprised, if not intrigued. He heard familiar voices introducing themselves to her. Aiden sat up suddenly.

Why were they here?

Agents Striker and Summers stepped into view, blue eyes blinking slowly. The taller man looked to him as green eyes stared at him. The blond man let a slight grin come onto his face; Summers scowling all of a sudden. "Um...agents." His aunt had closed the door and locked it, stepping over to them. " How can we help you?"

"Hey, I answered your questions!" Aiden said abruptly.

Summers cleared his throat. "We're here to question your aunt about your mother, if that's okay."

Aiden stared at them briefly before frowning gently. Miranda stared at Striker for a moment then stepped closer towards him, the brown-haired man rearing his head back. "..Ma'am?" She scowled lightly before stepping back to fold her arms across her chest.

"Were you following me earlier?" she asked sternly. The two agents looked at each other nervously.

Striker spoke first. "Oh, well—you see, we were escorting you back to your house. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

She shrugged lightly.

"Mm, no, it's not," the blond woman said tapping her finger to her chin. "But I've seen that car before. So, let me ask you this: you wouldn't happen to be John Winchester's boy, are you?"

Striker's face drained of color along with Summers who stared at the suddenly defiant woman. All Aiden could really do was blink in confusion.

Again.

Note from the author: As you can see, it's rather long, so it was made into a two-part chapter...or possibly three.. And if you got confused by the chapter, I'm sorry for doing so; I'll rewrite it whenever I get a chance to. Reviews are loved (yet again) and so is criticism.