The Soldiering Life

Part 2

Location: Campbell Compound. November 20, 1991.

At age twelve, Dean's pretty damn proud of himself for making his first sawed off shotgun. He knew for a fact that no other sixth grader, whether or not they were a part of the Campbell clan, could claim this same achievement.

But, to be honest, he had a little help. This pretty blond, who he had never seen around the compound before, gave him some tips on just where to cut the barrel and at what angle he should hold the saw so that he doesn't mess up on accident. Strange enough though, the girl had disappeared before Dean could turn around and thank her.

Dean considered telling Samuel about this, but he decided against it. After all, she seemed really nice and didn't give off any bad vibes. And Dean had really good instincts, so he figured she wasn't a danger to him or anyone else in the family.

"Dean! Where are you? Your breakfast is ready! You better eat it before your grandfather is ready for the hunt!" Deanna calls from the kitchen down the hall.

A wide grin splits Dean's face as he stores the shotgun in his backpack and leaves it behind in the weapons room.

He had almost forgotten that today was the day they began the Big Hunt. His first outing on an actual hunt and his first chance to prove how great of a hunter he was. And to top things off, he got to go with Grandpa Samuel alone, while Gwen and Christian had to go on a different hunt with their dads.

Dean's a little disappointed that he won't get to see the look on Gwen and Christian's faces when they face their first monster, but he's not going to let that drag him down. Not even for a moment. He's way too excited about getting to bag his first kill with his brand new sawed off.

Location: Pontiac, Illinois - Motel. November 21, 1991.

Dean's restless and ready to get going after being cooped up in the truck and then the motel room for so long. But Samuel sat his grandson down and ran the plan past him again, just in case.

"Alright, so we're hunting changelings here, Dean. Can you tell me what you're supposed to do with them?" Samuel asked as he sat Dean down on one of the motel beds and checked his pistol to make sure everything was clean and in working order.

Dean sighed, tired of going over the standard procedure for changelings, but he repeated it again, just to appease his grandpa. "You find them using a mirror and then burn them with fire. If you find the mother, even better, because killing her kills all her children," he ran through the information as quickly as he could and waited patiently for the sound of Grandpa Samuel chambering a round.

A corner of Samuel's lips quirked up in a smile and he playfully slapped Dean on the back. "That's my boy. You got that down perfect," the old man praised and rose from his seat. "Alright, let's go out and investigate. I already got a lead on the neighborhood we'll be looking into."

Location: Pontiac, Illinois - Suburbs. Later That Day.

Dean sat down on a white park bench, his green military coat pulled tight around himself to keep warm while he kept a keen eye on his backpack, not wanting to risk it or the weapons inside of it getting stolen.

Samuel had gone off alone to go door to door as a traveling preacher and see if he could get any more information or leads on the changeling mother. Dean, however, had been assigned to park duty and secretly checked all of the people who past by with a mirror carefully hidden in one of his sleeves.

So far, neither had dug up anything, but Dean caught a break when a boy who was about his age walked up to him. The kid was kind of scrawny with short, dark brown hair and these wide, kind of shell shocked blue eyes that mesmerized Dean as he looked into them. The kid checked out in the reflection test, so Dean knew he wasn't a changeling and he was honestly kind of glad about that.

"I haven't seen you around before," the dark haired boy queried as he came to a stop about a foot away from Dean.

The hunter-in-training looked up with a nervous smile and scratched the back of his head lightly. "Yeah. I'm here visiting some relatives. But my cousins are kind of boring so I decided to come out here and just sit," Dean lied easily, though there's a small twisting in his gut, like he didn't like that he had just lied to this total stranger.

"Oh? Well, a lot of the kids around here have been acting strange lately. They're not really acting like themselves," the brunet admitted quietly and took a seat on the bench, in the empty spot next to Dean's backpack. "I'm James Novak, by the way. But you can just call me Jimmy."

"Dean. Dean Winchester," the dark blond introduced himself in return, though he mentally winced at the slip of name and hated that he had mistakenly used the name of the man he despised as his alias. But he shook it off and got back to business. He was interested in the information Jimmy had and he kind of wanted to hear the other boy's voice again anyways.

Jimmy's voice was light with some feminine qualities due to his youth, but it was already showing hints of masculinity with a very slight deepening that Dean had just barely caught. In a way, Dean was jealous because he still hadn't reached the point where his voice was anywhere near changing, so he still sounded like a kid. But at the same time, he didn't really mind. He didn't want it to be a contest between him and Jimmy.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Jimmy replied politely and Dean smiled, offering a nod as his reply.

"Yeah, same," Dean said with what felt like a ridiculously huge grin that made his cheeks hurt a little. "So, uh, can you tell me what you meant by the kids not acting like themselves?"

Jimmy pursed his lips and furrowed his brows after Dean had asked the question, as if he was hesitant to talk about it. But he released a heavy sigh and placed his hands in his jacket pockets subconsciously, one hand fingering his rosary thoughtfully while the other rested idly.

"They just haven't been themselves. The children around here used to come to the park all the time and laugh and play. Some of them would talk to me too because we were in the same church. But recently, they've become more quiet. Reserved even. I feel like they're up to no good," the brunet admitted sadly and let his gaze drift upward, towards the sky as he clasped his rosary tight and sent up a silent prayer. But he brought it back down again when he noticed Dean pull the backpack off to the side and moved to sit closer to him.

Dean rested a hand on Jimmy's shoulder reassuringly and felt his heart flutter a little when the other boy smiled gratefully. "Ah. I'm sure it's just a game that they made up. But if they're leaving you out, it's probably not all that fun," he chuckled and let his hand fall away as he shifted and made himself more comfortable on the hard wood bench.

"Can you tell me when this all started?" Dean prodded carefully, not wanting to raise any of Jimmy's suspicions.

Jimmy frowned faintly, wondering why Dean would want to know something like that, but he shook it off. His parents had always taught him to help people in need and, well, he supposed this counted as someone in need. In need of information.

"I think it began a week or two ago. Mother mentioned something about Mrs. Fig acting strangely and not even a day later, her son, Charlie, was acting strange too. And then more and more kids began to act strangely and some of the mothers around the neighborhood began to get sick. Some of the fathers have died in accidents too," Jimmy recounted the story as best as he could, though he was saddened by the reminder of all the deaths. He raised a brow curiously when he saw Dean's lips twitch into the faintest smile, but the image was quickly gone and the dark blond was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and worry.

"Thanks for telling me all of that, Jimmy. It was pretty interesting," Dean beamed, but stopped when he noticed a women with dark brown hair similar to Jimmy's standing not too far from them. Grandpa Samuel wasn't far behind either, walking up to the park in his flannel and jeans again, instead of the priest get up.

"I've got to go," the boys spoke up at the same time, but paused and looked at each other, shocked, before bursting into fits of laughter.

"It was nice talking to you. Hopefully, we will see each other again," Jimmy bade farewell cheerfully as he rose from the bench and ran over to his mother, the woman's expression pinched into one of impatience that melted away into relief when her son returned to her.

"Yeah, hopefully," Dean whispered under his breath and took his time gathering up his backpack and pulling it on before he jogged over to Grandpa Samuel.

Dean recounted everything he had learned from Jimmy to his grandpa on the drive back to the motel. Samuel more or less confirmed the same information and they planned to strike tonight and wrap things up so that they could get back in time for the big Campbell Thanksgiving Dinner.

Location: Pontiac, Illinois - The Fig Household. Later That Night.

Samuel kicked in the door of the house and slowly walked in, flashlight and flamethrower at the ready.

Dean was at his grandpa's back, breathing calmly and holding his own flamethrower ready and his flashlight steady. The hunter-in-training was walking the same half moon pattern he had been learning for as long as he could remember as he scanned the darkness for any signs of danger.

But, of course, there was always danger. Even if his eyes couldn't see it, Dean's instincts were screaming at him that changelings were everywhere, watching their every move as they moved deeper into the house.

Location: Pontiac, Illinois - The Novak Household.

Jimmy knelt at the side of his bed in pale blue pajamas, his hands clasped in prayer and his rosary intertwined between his fingers. He had just reached the end of his prayer when he paused and frowned faintly as he remembered something.

"God, please, I do not know if he is one of your disciples, but if you could watch over Dean Winchester and make sure he is safe, I would be forever in your debt. I feel that he might be heading down a dangerous path. He is not evil and I know he isn't heading towards the path of the Devil, but…I can not explain why. It is just a feeling that twists and aches in my heart. So, please, please watch over Dean. Amen," the brunet finally finished and rose from his knees.

He was about to climb into bed, but a loud buzzing sound stopped him. Jimmy covered his ears and shut his eyes tight as the buzzing got louder and his room began to quake. The brunet fell to his knees again as the sound became overwhelming, but he pried his eyes open and looked up at the light that shone before him.

"Wh-what are you?" Jimmy barely managed to grind out the words, but lowered his hands slowly as the buzzing ebbed away, or maybe it just became more tolerable. He wasn't really sure.

I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord. I require your assistance, James Novak, the light replied and spread out gigantic wings made of light and white energy that cast shadows all around the room.

"Why would an angel need help from a human?" the boy asked, unafraid of the angel before him because he could sense that Castiel wasn't lying. But he truly found it hard to believe that an angel, a warrior of God, could ever require help. "I…how can I even help you?"

Castiel lowered his wings and looked down at Jimmy with bright blue eyes that almost looked like fiery sapphires in the mass of white light and wisps that made up the angel's form.

I require a vessel so that I may act upon my orders and save Dean Campbell. You are the only human who will be able to contain my essence without incurring harm at this moment, James, the angel spoke in a low hum and moved a little bit closer to his chosen vessel.

Jimmy frowned in confusion, but nodded slowly, knowing that it would be wrong to leave this Dean Campbell in harm's way when he could help it.

"Alright. Just…just let me get dressed first, please?" he asked quickly and smiled softly when he received what he supposed was the angelic equivalent of a nod in a slow blink.

He quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a white long sleeve shirt that he threw his warm, beige jacket over before he turned back to Castiel.

"I'm ready. You can use me as your vessel, Castiel," Jimmy proclaimed in a quiet, but strong voice. He felt his body suddenly jerk, as if shocked by electricity as Castiel's light intensified and everything became a blinding white.

Location: Pontiac, Illinois - The Fig Household. Ten Minutes Later.

"No. No no no. This is bad. This is very bad," Dean hissed as he ran backwards down a hall and used the flamethrower to burn away any of the changelings that came too close.

He and Grandpa Samuel had gotten separated about three minutes back when a horde of changelings came at them from two different directions. And while his grandpa had been herded up the stairs, Dean knew he was being pushed back towards the basement. If they did manage to get him into the basement, the dark blond knew he was a dead man. But Dean was definitely not ready to die just yet.

Suddenly, Dean backed up into another body, making him literally jump and turn in fear. Bright hazel eyes widened in shock, however, when they landed on one Jimmy Novak, standing there in the same clothes he had been wearing at the park earlier today.

"Jimmy? What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asked quickly, but whipped his head around to see the changelings who had suddenly stopped in their tracks and were glaring hard at him and Jimmy. And Dean thinks he catches whimpering too. But why would the changelings be whimpering?

Dean cursed softly and turned his head again, spotting a decorative mirror on the wall. He looked at himself and Jimmy through it, but he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Just his and Jimmy's reflections.

"Dean Campbell," Jimmy spoke up and rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. But his voice sounded different. It's deeper and more serious, almost inhuman. And yet the sound of that voice wrapped itself around Dean like a warm blanket and easily comforted him.

"What are you? What have you done to Jimmy?" Dean questioned warily while keeping a watchful eye on the changelings.

Eyes that were like cerulean colored fire looked down on their charge silently for a moment before shifting back to the monsters that stood fearfully before them.

"James Novak is safe. I am just using his body as my vessel for the time being," the thing in Jimmy stated plainly and slowly moved his hand off of Dean's shoulder.

Dean felt himself immediately tense up again at the loss of contact between himself and the Jimmy impersonator. He can't explain why, but he didn't want to lose that contact.

"Still doesn't explain what the hell you are. You could be a demon for all I know," the dark blond grinded out, only to find that the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth after he's spoken them.

The mystery creature in Jimmy Novak moved to Dean's side and rested a hand on his shoulder again, watching as his ward relaxed under the touch. He then raised his other hand and a sudden flash of light enveloped the house, setting fire to the changelings that had been threatening to move closer just moments before. After they had been dealt with, the creature turned and looked Dean in the eyes.

"I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord. My Father has commanded that I protect you and I have. Now, it is your turn to fulfill your duty and kill the mother changeling," Castiel quickly explained, but was already pushing Dean towards the basement before the boy could even digest the information.

"Angels exist?" Dean asked numbly as he was pushed towards the basement door. No matter how hard the twelve year old struggled against the angel and tried to get him to stop pushing him, he couldn't and was continually overwhelmed by Castiel's angelic strength.

"Yes, but you will not remember our encounter. You will forget, as you have forgotten our earlier encounters as well," Castiel spoke as he finally stopped pushing Dean. A sad smile settled itself onto Castiel's features the moment before he pressed his fingers to Dean's temple and disappeared with the sound of flapping wings the next.

Dean shook his head and blinked quickly. He can't remember what had just happened, but he feels that something important had just taken place. But the thought immediately became unimportant when Dean realized that the changelings chasing after him were gone and that he's standing in front of the basement door.

"Dean!" Samuel bellowed from up the stairs and the boy panicked for a moment.

The sound of his grandpa's voice was one of desperation and a plea for help that sent the dark blond boy running down the basement steps. And when Dean saw all the cages containing the replaced children and the mother changeling looming over them hungrily, he didn't hesitate to set her on fire.

Dean watched her burn with a cheeky grin on his lips and a sense of satisfaction for a job well done filling up his chest. But he didn't allow himself to stop for long. Once the mother changeling was dead and gone, Dean set to work opening the cages and freeing the children, all while the steady beats of Grandpa Samuel's footsteps came running down the stairs.

Location: On The Road.

Samuel looked down at Dean snoring softly in the passenger seat with a faint smile as he drove down the dark roads silently. He had suggested that they spend the night at the motel and leave early in the morning, but Dean had been surprisingly stubborn and demanded that they head straight back to the Campbell Complex to let everyone know that the hunt had gone well.

The patriarch snorted softly at the memory and shook his head, amused by his grandson's actions. But deep down, he was glad that Dean was so attached to the family. It strengthened them all if they could learn to depend on each other.

Though, Samuel believed that Dean was strong enough to stand on his own if he really needed to, even if the idea really did pain him somewhere in his heart. Dean had proven that to him tonight, back at the house in Pontiac, when he had somehow managed to take care of himself and roast the mother changeling all on his own.

The boy was a hunter prodigy and would one day, very soon, surpass Samuel Campbell himself.