Prologue
Dean had the werewolf backed in a corner now. He was keeping the damn thing pressed against the wall and being certain to place himself in between the werewolf and his five year old son. It was the fucking last time he was giving in to his boy's tears and bringing him on the job.
"You will die, hunter!," the werewolf, who only five minutes ago, had been an old gentleman named Pete, snarled in his face.
"Yeah, we'll see about that," Dean grunted, pulling his gun filled with silver bullets out of his jean pockets. While over his shoulder, he called to his son, "Brad, go outside and wait for me in the car."
But Brad (short for Bradley) didn't seem to hear him. His small face was pale while his gaze was strayed from his father, and instead, it was fixed on the werewolf who had now his long canine teeth out and was just waiting for a moment to get them anywhere near Dean.
"Now, Brad!," Dean yelled. It was hard to concentrate on killing the monster and worrying about scarring his young son for life, all at the same time. He didn't know this Pete guy would turn out to be the werewolf they were after. Certainly not the pureblood kind who could change their forms any damn time they liked.
Brad whimpered but snapped out of his fearful daze at Dean's voice. He surely but slowly started backing out of the room. But on his way out, he banged against a small stool near the door, which had a glass vase on it. The vase fell to the floor, and so did Brad. He whimpered when the vase landed on his small hands. One broken piece managing to slice the back of his hand open. Dean swore at the pained cry his son let out. He promised himself that he wasn't letting Brad out of the motel if only they could make it alive out of this hunt.
While he was busy cursing himself all the way to Sunday, Pete took advantage of his momentarily distraction. Pushing Dean's arm away from where it was pinning him to the wall, he pounced on Dean. His face was completely unhuman now. Yellow glowing eyes, long canine teeth, grayish black furry hair , and unnatural long nails made it difficult to believe if he had ever been human.
Dean fell to the floor and, in a moment, had his gun out. The beast jumped on him, and Dean had his finger on the trigger, but before he could actually make the shot. There came out of seemingly nowhere a blinding white light engulfing the werewolf. Instinctively, Dean had to close his eyes against the glaring light while his mind raced in the direction of Brad. All he could hear was the werewolf screaming bloody murder. He opened his eyes when everything around him was silent. The werewolf was burnt to crisp in front of him.
Dean watched it for a moment before he scrambled to his feet. He turned and ran toward Brad, who was sitting unmoving on the floor with blood pooling out of his small hand. He was watching Dean with wide eyes.
Dean knew the killer white light had come from the direction of Brad. All he didn't know was how and why.
"Brad -," the boy flinched away from him. His terrified expression, which he had directed at the werewolf, he was now shooting the same at Dean. Though it was lesser in degree, it rushed the breath out of him and made his heart hurt.
"Please don't hurt me..," Brad finally said in a tiny voice, unknowingly breaking Dean's heart in a million pieces with that.
"No one's going to hurt you, Brad. Not as long as I'm around." He promised fiercely, and a second later, he had his arms full of his five-year-old. He hugged his boy tightly to his chest as his mind raced in a hundred different directions. The first thought that sprang in his head was, 'I have a child born of magic', followed closely by 'What am I gonna do?'.
Nevertheless, there was one thing he was sure of and it was that he would protect his son with his last breath if he had to.
A/N: Hey, guys!
This is another one of those stories where Dean has a kid, I know. But I'm hoping that I can give it a new spin.
Drop a review if you are interested in reading further. ;)