@CastielNovak How are you all? I have not checked in on you all in a while. I hope you all are doing well. Be careful out there.
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Sirens wailed loudly. The street flashed blue. Then white. Then red.

Dean couldn't see anything but red.

His body surged with adrenaline. His surroundings disappeared and his only feeling was pure anger. He felt arms being wrapped around his upper torso, pulling him backwards. He screamed. And he couldn't even hear himself over the rage. His head buzzed and ached from lividity.

He never took his eyes off the source of his anger. He screamed again as he was shoved up against the police car. This time, it was audible. "He deserved it! He killed my father!"

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"Hey, Dean?" Sammy asked, peering up through his shaggy brown hair to look at his older brother. They were walking home from school towards their dad's work. It was where they always hung out after school Mondays.

Their dad, John, was a firefighter. He worked long shifts as he was a deputy fire chief. He had a love/hate relationship with his job. With Mary gone, probably snorting coke off some clown's stomach, he had full custody of his two sons. It required a lot of attention and time to do his job, and even more to be a father.

When they weren't at the firehouse, they were with their dad's friend Bobby and his wife Jody. They were there more often than not, but every Monday after school, John made sure he could see his sons.

"Dean?" Sam asked again.

"Huh? What's up, buddy?" he responded after his moments of silence. He was kicking a stone up the alleyway in front of him.

"Can... can I ask you something?" he inquired quietly.

A small smile played upon Dean's face. He adored his little brother. "Sure. What's on your mind?"

"Do you think Grandpa will be okay?"

He sighed. When Sam was old enough to realize that his family was lacking a maternal figure, he did what any normal, curious kid would do. He asked his older brother who, of course, told him the 'truth'.

That Mary didn't leave because of her drug addiction. She didn't leave because she didn't love them enough to stay. She didn't leave because she went to get sober. She didn't leave because she felt like the Winchesters were too good for her. And she totally, entirely didn't leave because John kicked her out for trying to breastfeed Sammy while high.

He told Sam his truth. The truth he tried so hard to convince himself was reality. He told Sam she loved them very much but Grandpa got sick so she had to leave.

Dean stopped about 4 yards from the front of the building. Sam stopped a few steps later and turned to face him. "I hope so, buddy. But last I heard, he wasn't doing so well."

Sam frowned deeply, putting his gaze to the pavement. He tugged on his backpack straps, adjusting it on his back. "Why can't I call him? I want him to know that we love him!"

"I know, Sammy. But he knows, too." Dean reached forward to ruffle his brother's hair.

It swept in front of his eyes but Sam didn't attempt to fix it. He just locked his jaw and held his gaze, muttering, "It's Sam."

Footsteps could be heard behind Dean and he motioned for Sammy to move towards the wall and out of the way of the passerbys. The two people stopped right next to the two boys.

Dean looked up towards them. Dean was only fourteen and Sam was ten. Dean was slightly taller than the woman and shorter than the man by at least a few inches. "Well, what do we have here? It looks like the Winchester boys."

"Moose. Squirrel. How are you both?" the man asked, shoving his hands in his front pockets.

"We're fine. We'll be going now, thanks," Dean answered quickly. He motioned for Sam to turn around so they could get inside.

"Ah, ah, ah," the woman said, sticking her hand out in front of Sam and holding him back.

"Hey, don't touch him!" Dean shouted.

"Awh, you're defending him. How cute." She looked over her shoulder towards the taller man and fake pouted. "I wish my siblings defended me."

Dean gulped. He was nervous. He reached forward and tried to push the girl's arm off of Sammy's chest.

The black haired girl pulled Sam to her side, grabbing his arm so tightly her knuckles turned white. Sam looked at Dean as tears filled his desperate eyes. "Dean. What do I do?"

"Just breathe, buddy. It'll be okay." He exhaled shakily and looked between the two adults.

The girl had black hair and chubby cheeks. Her face was centered and smushed together in one spot, contrasting to her round face. She appeared to be younger than the man by a few years - maybe her early twenties.

He then turned his attention to the man. He was scruffy and his hair appeared thin. His eyes bugged out of his sockets more than the average person's. A thin goatee lined his chin. And he was plump, a round belly sitting above his waistband.

"What do you want from us?" Dean asked, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. "Take me instead. Leave Sammy be."

The woman cackled. "He thinks we're here to kidnap them!" she laughed, nudging the man next to her with her elbow. She abruptly stopped laughing and looked Dean dead in the eye. "No, silly. We're here for you both, yes. But not to kidnap you both. You want a second guess?" she smiled, pulling a switchblade out of her pocket. She flicked it open and turned towards Sam.

"Don't touch him!" he screamed, lunging forward towards the girl. The man attempted to grab Dean. Attempted.

By the time the man had gotten ahold of Dean, his hand had smacked forward into the girl's elbow. The knife pressed into Sam and he released a blood curdling scream.

At this, footsteps could be heard rushing towards them. "Sam? Dean?" the voice yelled, running towards them at a quickening pace. Dean reached upwards with his elbow and knocked the guy in the nose backwards. He immediately released his hold on Dean to clutch his broken nose.

Dean caught a glimpse of his father charging towards Sam and the girl. By the time he had turned back towards the older man, he had run halfway down the alleyway. Dean was about to chase after him when he heard another scream.

Except, this time, it was older. And deeper.

Dean turned around to see the woman running off towards the firehouse. Two men exited the building and tackled her. Dean looked down and saw Sammy lying on the ground a few feet from him and his father about three yards out. He ran to his little brother.

"Sam? Sam. Oh, God. Sammy, stay with me," he cried out, a sob escaping his mouth.

Sam coughed, a trickle of blood dripping down the side of his mouth. "I'm fine, Dean. Go check on Dad."

Dean looked up frantically between Sam and his dad. He looked back down at his brother. "No, I can't. You're hurt."

"Dean, I'm fine." He motioned with his head towards his abdomen where his jacket was pressed against his wound to stop the bleeding. "I'm fine. Check on Dad. Please," he pleaded.

Dean looked between the two worryingly before crawling to his dad. His dad was in bad shape. Blood leaked from a stab wound in his chest. He was wheezing and coughing loudly. "Dean," he started. His son cut him off.

"Dad, I love you. I love you, Dad. Please don't leave us," he begged. He blinked and tears fell down his face freely. Realization struck him that he needed pressure on the wound. John always tried to teach them first aid when he was home in case anything bad happened.

Dean pulled off his jacket and pressed it harshly against his dad's chest. He burst into another coughing fit, spitting up blood in the process. "I love you and Sam. So much. Take care of him for me," he said weakly, lifting his hand to place it on top of Dean's cheek.

Dean leaned into his father's hand and continued sobbing. A tear rolled down his father's cheek as his breathing halted and his eyes shut for a final time. His hand slid off of Dean's cheek and blood smeared across it. "Dad? Dad?" He got no response.

His dad had died.

He screamed the loudest, most high-pitched screech anyone could ever imagine. It turned into him choking on tears and his sobs wracked his whole body. His torso heaved every time he breathed.

He could faintly hear officers speaking and the wail of sirens. "We've got a 10-72 and a 192.1. And an 11-41. We need an ambo, stat." Within seconds, another siren had increased in volume and rolling of wheels could be heard close to Dean's ears. "Thanks, Sheridan, for the call in. Nevermind the ambo," he responded into his mic.

He looked up through the tears to see Sam on a stretcher, being taken away from him. "No! You can't take him!" Dean wailed, scrambling up from his place to run after the bed on wheels.

A female officer stopped him. "It's okay, sweetie. We're just taking him to the hospital. Why don't you ride along with us?"

He continued to cry, looking back at his father's limp body on the blacktop. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't stop shaking long enough to form coherent words.

"I'm sorry, honey. Is there anybody we can call for you?" the officer said, putting her hand gently on the small of his back to guide him towards the ambulance. He stumbled with every step he took, turning to look over his shoulder at his dad the whole way.

"M-my uncle. Bobby Singer," Dean said, sniffling. He was suddenly aware of how many people were around. He didn't want to seem like a wimp but his whole body was aching in sorrow.

The lady retrieved the phone number from Dean before assisting him into the ambulance.

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"Are you aware of the Miranda Rights Officer Ballard has read you?" Detective Henriksen questioned. He sat down in the metal seat opposite Dean.

Dean scuffed and jingled the chain attached to his handcuffs in front of him. "Yeah, actually. I have a question."

"Okay, what is it?" the detective inquired.

"Do you have her number?" Dean smirked.

Henriksen sighed and opened the case file in front of him. "So, you say this man killed your father?" he asked, flipping a photo vertically and pushing it towards Dean in his seat.

Dean looked at the photo for a split second then looked off towards the wall. "Yes," he responded through gritted teeth.

Henriksen looked through the case file a bit more before speaking. "And you're sure?"

Dean looked up towards the dark skinned detective across from him. He was bald and sat proudly in his seat. "Yes, I'm sure."

Henriksen stood and pushed the chair back in. "Your court date is tomorrow at 9am. Consider yourself lucky it's so soon." Officer Ballard returned and unchained Dean from the floor. His handcuffs remained intact.

"Well, hello to you, too. What's your name, gorgeous?" he said, eyeing the officer up and down.

She walked through the opened doorway and led him through the lobby towards the cells, entirely ignoring his flirtatious advances.

He looked through the station at all of the officers and finally towards the chairs up front. There sat Sam, Cas, and Gabe. "Sammy? Jack? What are you guys doing here?"

"Okay, totally not hurt right now. Hello to you too, Deano," Gabe pouted.

"Dean! They called me and said you'd been arrested for assault and battery? What happened?" Sam asked, standing up from his seat and making his way towards his brother. Cas and Gabe continued sitting in their chairs.

"Hey, shut it. Go and sit down," Officer Ballard chimed in, using her fingertip to point towards Sam's seat. Sam retreated and Dean smiled smugly at the officer again.

"Commanding. I like that," he winked at her.

Not even a minute later, officer Henriksen approached the three. "Samuel Winchester?"

Sam stood immediately. Cas and Gabe followed suit. "Yes, that's me," Sam said quickly, shuffling on his feet nervously and shoving his hands in his front pockets.

"He's being arrested right now for assault and battery. His court date is scheduled for tomorrow at 9am if you would like to attend. He's claiming the man he attacked is who killed your father."

"What? Both people - the man and woman - were arrested," Sam retorted, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Henriksen looked through the file once again and sighed, turning towards Sam again. "No, actually. Only the woman was apprehended. Meg Masters. We never knew who her accomplice was but now we have a lead." Ballard returned around the corner and waved him over. "Excuse me," he said, walking off.

The three were silent for a moment. Sam sat down in his seat once again, resting both elbows on the armrests and his hands on his face. His hands were shaped in a triangle, fingertips pressed together, palms facing each other, and rested over the bridge of his nose. "Sam?" Gabe asked, sitting down next to him. He leaned forward to get a good look at him.

"Dean told me they got both of them." He paused. Gabe and Cas were both speechless. "He lied to me. The man who killed my father was out there all of these years and I had no idea."

Hi its me again. I really have no idea whats going on i have 67 pages of handwritten notes and i still have no idea where to go next. I literally wrote this entire chapter in under 2 hours and it's at about 2300 words without my little note tehe

Sorry that was weird. It's 3am on a school night so i better sleep. I'm on a writing kick lately (if you couldn't tell) so im going to bring my notes with me to school to write some more there! I literally still dont have a chapter title so ig i'll write it when im done with my note but yeah i knocked this outta the mtf park.

Im hungry and craving mac n cheese but like i said its 2:48am and yeahno. Rip in the chat for me bois.

Anyway if theres any errors pls let me know im tired as fuck and didnt proofread so yay. Thank yall so much. I love you all. Make sure you vote, comment, and share♡