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Chin Strong 2/?
Title: Chin Strong 1/?
Author: Struckthunder
Rating: hard R/NC-17
Warnings: AU, Normal Humans, Child Abuse, Angsts, Violence, Rape, PTSD, Prostitution, Under Age Sex, Possible Slash, Probable Homophobia,
Spoilers: there are mentions of character from all seasons but no real spoilers, also I switch up some relationships and locations as to where people live.
Summary: Dean had been living with a serial killer for twenty-six years, but he already knew that. What he didn't know was how it was going to change his and his brothers lives. As he grows up Dean struggles to protect his brother and himself. After twenty-six year of this something happens and things in Dean's life begin to change, for better or for worse, well that's yet to be decided.

Monument, Colorado 2005

 Hendrickson needed to compose himself before he tried to speak. The expanse of words that fell from Dean Winchester was making his head spin. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it when he knew that nothing would sound right, no apology would be alright, nor an insult would be the right thing to say. After a few false starts Hendrickson decided that a question would be the only action to take.

“Are you certain that your father killed that woman in Osceola?” Hendrickson asked, trying to sound toneless as he wrote down this new information on Dean report, and knew that the officers behind the mirror were scrambling to look up the old cold case.

“Yes,” Dead nodded.
“And you never reported it?” Hendrickson continued.
“No,” Dean sighed. “I told you I couldn't tell anyone.”

“Right, right,” Hendrickson agreed. “So what did you do after that, what did you start to plan?”

“I began to plan how to save Sam's life,” Dean replied looking to the side.

“When did your father first threaten you or your brother?” Hendrickson asked curiously.

“I was ten,” Dean responded quickly. “He had killed someone else, the whistling told me that, and when he came home, Sam was at school, and I watched him clean up. I didn't say anything, just watched, he lashed out and told me that if I told anyone he would kill me, then Sammy. So I didn't say anything.”

Hendrickson sat back in his seat, he did not know when he had begun to lean forward. The story that flowed from Dean Winchester was twisting his gut and making his head hurt. Dean's story, and thats all it was at the moment, a story, was intriguing and heartbreaking. Hendrickson knew that he should not be listening to it, it could be complete lies, what he should really do is throw him in a cell and let the man rot. He was a killer, all the investigations had confirmed that he and his father were on a murder rampage across America. The FBI agent thought about just standing up and leaving, calling in another cop to come put Dean in a cell, but he couldn't. The feeling in his gut was outweighing his mind. But most of all, Hendrickson wanted to know what happened to Sam. Hendrickson loved mysteries, and the mystery of Sam had absorbed him. He still wasn't sure if Sam was ever real, but he still wanted to know how Dean was going to protect his brother, imaginary or not.

“When did you tell Sam?” The FBI agent asked.

“I never did,” Dean said softly.

“Never?” Hendrickson's mouth hung open a little. “How? Why didn't you tell him?”

“And ruin his life too? No thanks. Sam already had a tough life he didn't need this stacked on top of it. Plus, the less he knew the better. I could keep him safer if he never knew that our father killed people. It was better to keep him in the dark about that.” Dean had a hurt expression on his face, one that Hendrickson knew from experience, it was regret. Though regret of what, Hendrickson was not sure of yet. Regret of not telling Sam, or the regret of letting Sam go? The further Dean's story went the deeper Hendrickson was pulled under.

“But, he knew your father beat you?” Hendrickson probed.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “Wish he didn't, but he did know that. I told him after a couple years that dad had stopped, but he didn't believe me. That kid was always pretty smart. Guess I was just better at keeping secrets, figure that's something I got from my dad.”

Hendrickson shivered at the thought of gaining something from John Winchester. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought about, that somewhere in the world Sam Winchester was out there not knowing who his father really was, nor knowing who his brother was, and what he had sacrificed for him. Hendrickson knew that the interview needed to continue, although he figured that he had enough information to prevent a jury from sending Dean to death, he still needed Dean's statement on his fathers threat to stop him from serving jail time.

“When you were ten you said your father first threatened to kill you right?” Hendrickson asked.

“Yeah,” Dean replied.

“Tell me about that,” the FBI agent requested.

“Well, like I said Sam was at school, and I was at this house dad had rented,” Dean started, then Hendrickson interrupted him.

“Did you go to school?” Hendrickson asked.

“No,” Dean replied, a little thrown by the question. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious really,” Hendrickson lied. He knew that if Dean had gone to school there would be a record, just like there should have been a record of Sam in school. Hendrickson was also surprised that Dean had never gone to school, mostly because he seemed like a smart man, though that may just have been the wisdom from having such a horror of a childhood.

“Where were you this time?” Hendrickson followed.

“California,” Dean said, then looked down at his hands.

San Bernardino, California 1989

The house John had gotten for them wasn't in a particularly good part of town, nor was the house in a good way, but it had a roof, beds, and working bathrooms, so Dean figured that it would be alright for a while. They had come to California almost a month ago, and John had made no notion that they were going to be leaving any time soon and that suited Dean just fine. He liked when they stopped moving around every other week. It was also good for Sammy, he hadn't been to a school for more than a couple weeks in a while. The six year old was now in first grade and couldn’t stop talking about how much he was learning. Dean envied him, even became jealous at times, but he knew that he had a much more important role and that he could not go to school.

Dean was cleaning the kitchen when his father came home. It was his fathers mess he was cleaning, he had gotten drunk the night before and thrashed the kitchen looking for more alcohol. John walked by Dean without a second glance, like he was just a piece of furniture in his life. Dean continued to clean but kept an ear out for his father. He usually did not come home midday, most of the time he arrived back at the house around midnight. Dean didn't know what he was doing most of the day, but he really did not want to find out. Dean held in a breath when John's footsteps came close to the kitchen again. His father walked in and glared at his eldest son. Dean could feel the stare on the back of his neck, the intensity of it caused his hands to tremble. He clenched at the rag he was using as he waited for whatever his father was about to do or say.

“Where's your brother?” John demanded.

“At school,” Dean replied and felt his chest release some pressure.

“School, right,” John muttered. Dean pretended not to watch as his father paced for a moment. “I wont be home till tomorrow,” John said suddenly. “Don't fuck anything up while I'm out.”

Then he was gone. Dean let out a long breath, then smiled. A whole day without his father, it was like Christmas. Dean finished cleaning the kitchen and prepared a snack for Sammy for when he got home. He glanced up at the clock, it was a little after one o' clock, Sam got done with school at two. Dean would leave the house around one thirty to walk over to the school and take Sam home. Dean enjoyed the walks they had, Sam would talk and talk and talk, while Dean would listen. He figured that he would make something nice for himself and his brother for dinner. He jogged over to the room that he and Sam shared and opened up his duffel bag and pulled out an old sock. Inside was a stash of money Dean had kept hidden from his father since he was six. He pulled out ten dollars and stuffed it into his pants pocket, then hid the sock back in his bag. Dean wasn't sure how much money was in the sock, he had never counted it, he only ever stuck a few dollars in there when he had found one or dad have given him a little more than he needed when he went to the store. The money was for the 'just in case' moments, like; just in case dad doesn’t come back for a few days, or just in case Sam gets sick. But for one day Dean was using it for himself. He wanted to have a nice dinner, maybe chicken, or something. He could never have a nice dinner when his father was there, but tonight was going to be different.

Dean left the house and headed towards Sam's school. The school was kinda far away, Dean had to walk clear out of the bad part of town he was living in and down into more of the middle class area. He took his time as he strolled down the block. Some of the houses on the block were boarded up with 'Keep Out' signs attached to them, others were ramshackle and had mean looking teenagers sitting on the front porch. They sniggered as Dean walked by, once they had even thrown a pop can at him. Dean took no mind to them, he didn't particularly care what they did, just as long as they did not hurt Sammy. Thankfully, most days when Dean walked Sam home, they were usually gone. The bad part of town broke into the middle class part quickly. From one falling over apartment building to a nice home, with a white picket fence to top it off. Dean continued past these houses and finally the elementary school came into view. Once there he stood under a tree near the parking lot where many of the parents of the other kids were already waiting for their children. Dean watched as some of the parents got out of their cars and stood outside to wait, other sat safe in their minivans reading or singing along with the radio. Dean then noticed that one of the mothers was coming over to him. He looked down instantly and kicked at the dirt a bit. None of the parents had ever approached him before, Dean was extremely good at blending in to the background. His throat suddenly became dry and he scanned around for a place to hide, but before he could even move the woman was right next to him.

“Hi there,” the woman said sweetly. “Your Sam's brother right?” Dean took a glance up and nodded. He wasn't sure how she knew that Sam was his brother but she did not seem threatening, still, Dean kept his guard up.

“My name is Claire, my son Jimmy is in Sam's class,” she said. Dean picked up his head a little but still said nothing. Claire bit her lip for a second then crouched down to Dean's level before speaking up again. “What's your name sweetie?”

“I'm Dean,” Dean said softly to the ground, the woman smiled anyway.

“It's nice to met you Dean,” Claire said and held out a hand for Dean. Dean took a step back, away from Claire's hand. Claire slowly put her hand down but kept her smile up.

“Well Dean I was wondering if your dad was around?” Claire asked. Dean shook his head. “Oh well you see Jimmy has been begging me to ask Sam's dad if it is okay for Sam to come over to play. Will he be here to pick you two up?” Dean shook his head once more. Clare tilted her head to the side, “Then who takes you home?”

“I do,” Dean replied. “I walk Sam home.”

“Oh, you walk Sam home by yourself?” She asked, her face full of worry. Dean, again, nodded.

“Every day?” Another nod. “Where is your dad now?”

“He's at work,” Dean lied to his shoes. Claire looked a little put off. “He works a lot,” Dean tried to strengthen his lie. He knew that what he did for his little brother was not what most brothers did who were his age.

“I see,” Claire said sadly and stood up.

The bell rang and soon the front of the school was filled with children. Dean picked Sam out from the crowd, he was talking to another boy animatedly. Sam spotted Dean and made his way over to him.

“Hi Dean,” Sam said happily.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean smiled back. The boy he was talking to went up to Claire, he must have been Jimmy.

“Mom can Sam come over?” Jimmy begged. Claire looked over at the eldest Winchester, Dean shook his head.

“I don't think so Jimmy,” Claire said. “Not today anyways.” Claire gave Dean a small smile and Dean tried to return it. There was an awkward moment when Jimmy was pouting, Claire was worrying and Dean was edging away from the group. Before Dean could escape Claire offered the Winchester brothers a ride home.

“Yeah!” Sam said quickly before Dean could polity decline.

“Sam,” Dean hissed at his brother.

“What? It's just a ride Dean,” Sam shrugged off. Dean would not mind a ride back home, or to the store, but he was afraid that his father would find out. Dean knew the probability of his father coming back so soon was slim, and Sam looked like he really wanted to go with Jimmy and Claire. Dean figured that he could at least give his brother this.

“Okay,” Dean agreed. Claire looked delighted.

“Great, come on boys,” she laughed. She led them over to her purple minivan and opened the back door for Jimmy and Sam. She made sure that their seat belts were fastened and told Dean that he could sit in the front. Dean hesitated, he had not sat in the front of a car in a long time. Claire hopped into her seat and Dear hurried to get into the car. He clicked his seat belt and they drove away from the school.

“Actually,” Claire said suddenly. “Would you two like to come over? I was planning on making grilled cheese.”

“Dean can we please?” Sam cried from the back.

Dean threw a look back, Sam had his lip pouted out, and his eyes went wide. Dean knew that Sam had very few friends and had never really been over to one of their houses, so, with a sigh, he agreed. He swallowed hard as he did, but the excited sound Sam made, made Dean happy. They drove to the other side of town and Dean dreaded the walk back they were going to have to take. Claire must have noticed Dean's glancing at the street signs because she offered to take them back home, claiming that it was no problem. They pulled up to a nice house with bright green grass covering the front lawn. Dean got of the car and before he could say anything to Sammy, he and Jimmy were running into the house. Dean didn't know what to do, he felt exposed here.

“Come on in Dean,” Claire waved a hand towards the house.

Dean followed her in. The first thing he noticed was the smell of vanilla, it was something that he would never smell back at the rented house. The house was warm and it gave Dean the same kind of comfort that the Impala did, for that car was more of a home then any other place in the world. Claire waited for Dean to enter the house before she shut the door behind them. Dean looked around for where Sam might be, he did not see him, but he could hear his brother.

“They're probably in Jimmy's room,” Claire told him. “You could go play with them if you want,” she offered. Dean shook his head, he wouldn't know how to anyways. “Would you like to help me make the grilled cheese?”

“Sure,” Dean responded then followed Claire into the kitchen.

Dean sliced cheese while Claire talked, he also kept an ear out for Sammy. As long as he could hear him, or Jimmy, in the other room he felt okay. Dean snuck glances around the kitchen taking in what a real house looked like. There were pictures all over the walls of Claire and her family, an older man who Dean assumed was Jimmy's dad had his arm draped over his wife and two boys say in front of them. On the refrigerator there were drawing that must have been done by Jimmy, and a report card that must have been the other son's. Dean looked to another photo of the two brothers with their father, all smiling, all happy. He wondered if that could have ever been his life. No, Dean thought, this will never be my life.
When the sandwiches were done Claire called Sam and Jimmy into the kitchen. They came running in, Sam was all smiles and Dean couldn't help but return it. They sat at the table and Claire asked the younger boys what they did at school that day. Sam and Jimmy explained that they were now in groups to see who could draw the best picture. Sam assured them that they were going to win because they had Meg in their group and she was the best artist in the class. The conversation changed to Jimmy's older brother and when he was going to come back from his after school program. That got Dean's attention. He had never thought about after school programs, but now the idea was circulating in his head. A way that he could make sure Sam was safe and kept him away from their father for as long as possible, had simply fallen into his lap. He then took his time to wondered if Sam would like a science club or maybe a reading one.

Hours past and Dean dreaded having to leave Claire's home. For a long time he contemplated telling her, telling her that he knew that his father had killed someone, and that he hurt him all the time, but Dean didn't. He would try to say something but no words would come out, he gaped like a fish then snapped his mouth shut when he realized that he would never be able to tell Claire the truth. He couldn’t even tell Sam the truth, how was he supposed to tell a stranger?

Dean left Claire’s side and wondered to Jimmy's room where the two friends were sitting on the floor in front of a TV. They were playing some sort of video game. When Dean came in they offered him a go, he turned them down and sat of Jimmy's bed to watch instead. Dean perked up when he heard the front door open followed by many footsteps entering the house. Dean tensed, he didn't like not knowing who was now in the house. Dean gratefully heard Claire greet the intruders with a gentle voice.

“Hi boys,” She said. “How were your days?”

“Good hun,” said a older male, whom Dean figured was Claire's husband.

“Okay mom,” said a younger voice. “I've got more homework to do, I'll be in my room.”

Footsteps carried by Jimmy's room and Dean caught a slight glimpse of Jimmy's older brother before the sound of a door shutting followed the blur of a person. Claire then poked her head into the room and asked if they were hungry for dinner. Sam and Jimmy said yes, Dean said nothing.

“Do you want to help me out again Dean?” Claire asked. Dean looked at Sam for a quick second then nodded. He let her lead him back to the kitchen where her husband was.

Dean went stiff. The man did not look menacing but he could feel the fear raise in his chest. Claire introduced him as Michael. Michael held out a hand for Dean to shake and smiled at the young boy. Dean did not take his hand, he only looked at it. Michael dropped his hand and shared a sad smile with his wife. He excused himself saying that he was going to work in the other room. Dean helped Claire put together a salad while she placed a chicken breast in the oven. As they waited for the chicken to cook Claire tired to edge out some question from Dean. She asked him if he went to school and Dean lied. She asked if he liked his school, Dean lied. She asked if Dean's father was nice, Dean lied. Lying was easy to Dean, normal for him really. He lied to the landlords of the places they rented, he lied to Sam's teachers, he lied to Claire, he even lied to Sam. Once Claire realized that she wasn't going to get any real answers from Dean, she allowed for silence to take over the kitchen. Dean liked that better, in the quiet he could hear Sam and that was what really mattered.

When the chicken was done Claire called all of her boys to the table. Sam and Jimmy came running in followed by Michael then by Claire's eldest son. She introduced Dean to her other son Cas, who only nodded at Dean before taking his seat at the table. Dean wasn't paying attention to the two adults or the brothers who sat across from him, his attention was all on Sam. His brother had a wide smile on his face, that was something Dean had not seen in a while. Sam looked so happy here. For a terrifying moment Dean thought about leaving Sam there. He thought about just standing up and running away, letting Sam stay with this family, maybe giving him a normal life, a happy life. But, he couldn't do that, he was to selfish.

Claire severed the food and then they did something that Dean had never done before, they said grace. Sam took Dean's right hand and Cas held out a hand for Dean as well. Dean hesitated at the offered hand, but with a nudge from Sam he took it. The people at the table all held hands and bowed their heads, as Michael spoke and thanked God for their food and for Sam and Dean's company. Dean felt a little bad that he did not really pray, but the sure smile on Claire's face told him that it was okay. The prayer said they released hands and Dean let out a breath he did not know he was holding. As they began to eat Sam and Jimmy filled the room with their banter. Dean enjoyed their argument and startled a little when Michael let out a deep laugh. Soon the entire table was laughing. Dean could not remember ever being this happy, and that was a big deal for him.

When seven rolled around Dean told Claire that they had to go back home. Claire nodded but fist tried to convince Dean to stay the night. Dean wanted to but he needed to be home when his father got there. Claire sighed knowing that Dean would not stay with her. Dean grabbed Sam and they got into the car. Once again, Dean watch the street signs that they passed, just in case. Dean gave Claire direction to their house and saw her bite her lip as she saw what part of town they were going to. When they pulled up at the house Claire had to be sure that they were in the right place.

“You sure this is it?” She asked, her lip still stuck between her teeth.

“Yes, “ Dean answered. “Come on Sammy.”

“Bye Ms. Novak,” Sam said politely. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome, Sam,” Claire said.

“Bye,” Dean said with a half smile.

“Bye Dean,” Claire said.

Dean closed the door of the car and draped an arm over Sam's shoulders and walked into their house. Claire watched from her car and made sure that they got inside alright before she drove away, with a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach
Once inside Dean told Sam to get ready for bed. Sam complained a little but did it anyways. Dean, who had remembered that he had prepared a snack for Sam for after school, went to put away the food for tomorrow. His task done Dean went to their bedroom and got ready for bed as well. The brothers lay down on the bed and Sam nodded off quickly, but Dean remained awake. He stared at the ceiling and wondered if his father would be back tomorrow like he had said or if he would call and say it would be a few more days. If he did call, Dean thought about asking if they could go back to Claire’s. With that thought lingering in his mind he fell asleep.

Dean got Sam to school the next day and kept and eye out for Claire, but he did not see her. Dean returned home sat down in the living room and began to read one of the books the past occupants of the house had left. Dean was about an hour into the book when his father came home. The Impala rumbled outside and Dean shut his book. He stood up, glanced around the house to make sure everything was in place, then he hear the whistling. His blood ran cold. John opened the door saw his son and smirked. Dean watched as his father trudged his way to the kitchen with a large bag over his shoulder. John dumped his bag on the counter, all the while whistling. He had an eerie smile on his face and when he reached into the bag he drew out a bloody knife. Dean knew instantly what he had done. Dean gasped, then covered his mouth quickly. John turned and glared at him. He had a knife in his hand and he had turned on the faucet and was cleaning off the blood form the blades.

“Boy,” John said. Dean did not need to hear a threat, that one word was threatening enough. Dean's eyes flicked to the door and wondered if he could make it there before his father. Not likely, Dean thought. Before Dean could try to find another escape rout his father was approaching him, knife still in hand.

“Do you know what I just did boy?” John breathed. Dean could smell the whiskey on his breath. Dean shook his head no, he lied, and John didn't believe him. “You know don't you? Tell the truth!” John shouted and raised the knife.

“Yes,” Dean whimpered out. John moved quick and had the knife forced against his sons neck, not breaking the skin, but ever so close to. The backs of Dean's knees were now pressed against the couch, he feared that his shaky legs would not hold him up for much longer.

“If you tell anyone I will kill you,” John said harshly. Dean tried to swallow against the knife but couldn't, he let the saliva build up in his mouth and the tears to poor from his eyes. “Don't fucking cry!” John sneered then flipped the knife in his hand and bashed the hilt against Dean's head. Dean toppled to the ground, one hand clasped to his head. John's foot soon found Dean's stomach and he kicked his son repeatedly. Dean coughed and tried to curl up into a ball. His father stopped kicking him only to pull him up by his arm and throw him into the couch. Dean shuddered and tried to breath easy.

“Dean,” John said smoothly, as if he had not just kicked the shit out of his kid. “I want you to promise me that you won't tell.”

Dean stared at the worn sofa under him, the old fabric was tearing and the cushions were near flat. He could hear his father hard breathing above him and he knew he had just asked him a question but he did not know what it was. Dean didn't dare look up at his father, that just made John angrier. He growled and slapped Dean across the face.

“Promise me you little fuck!” John shouted in his face, spraying spit everywhere. John grabbed Dean's chin and he was forced to look at his father. Dean's eyes were wide with fear, his face hurt and he wasn't sure if he could move his jaw, but he did anyways.

“No,” came a weak whisper. John jolted back, rage filled his face as he brought down the knife on his child. Dean held up his hand to protect himself but John was still able to catch him in the face. Dean cried out and held his now bleeding cheek.

“I swear to God,” John roared. “If you don't promise me I will kill you then Sam!”

“No!” Dean shrieked, letting go of his face, injury forgotten for the moment. “Not Sam!”

“Then promise,” John hissed. Dean wanted to throw up, he wanted to run away, he wanted Sam, he wanted his mom.

“Okay,” Dean said defeated.

“Good,” John said. “Now get your shit, we're leaving.”

“But,” Dean started, then stopped when John gave him an angered look. “It's just Sam is still at school.” Dean watched as his father contemplated his options. Dena knew that showing up midday to pull Sam from his class would be suspicious, Dean also knew that John could not afford any suspect as he had just killed someone.

“When's he done?” John groaned.

“Two,” Dean said.

“Fine you have until two, clean yourself up,” John said as he walked away. “And make me some food.”

Dean left the room as fast as he could. He held his side and held his breath as he made it to the bathroom, where he fell to his knees and threw up. He hung over the toilet and tried to remember how to breath. The air kept getting caught in his chest and he couldn't get it out. He wheezed against his hurt ribs and bruised stomach, trying to keep himself together. When he was sure that he was out of vomit, Dean pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bathtub. Again he allowed himself to just breath. He could feel blood running down his face and into his shirt. He vaguely wondered if he needed stitches, then knew that his father would never take him to the doctors. Dean touched his cheek and hissed at the instant pain. His fingers came away bloody; he felt sick again. Dean swallowed down his sickness and stood up, he wobbled a bit but made it to the counter where he leaned heavily against it. As he caught his reflection in the mirror he gasped. His cheek had been sliced open from his cheek bone down to his chin and cut down just a little of his neck. The cut wasn't that deep thankfully, so Dean figured that it would heal alright, it was just bleeding a lot. Dean grabbed the nearest towel and pressed it to his face. The blood soaked up fast and Dean felt a little better, then he felt insanely worse. His father had threatened to kill Sam. It was Dean job to protect Sam, he wouldn't let their father kill him. Dean wished that he had never seen his father light their house on fire, wished he had never seen the news about the woman who had been killed, Dean wished he had a normal life. Dean stared at his reflection and began to cry. His tears caught in the towel on one side but rolled down his unmarred cheek. What am I going to do? Dean closed his eyes tight. Please, someone tell me what to do! Dean prayed, then his father yelled at him.

“Boy hurry up!” Dean's eyes snapped open. He wiped the tears from his face as well as most of the blood. He hurriedly pulled out the box of band-aids that were kept in the bathroom and plastered them to his face. He looked a mess, but he wasn't bleeding anymore. Dean took many deep breaths then ventured back to where his father was.

John was in the living room, he had turned on the television and was watching some football game. He noticed Dean in the room and huffed a laugh at his appearance.

“Make me a sandwich,” John said then turned his attention back to the game.

Dean nodded and went to the kitchen and put together a sloppy sandwich, then cleaned it up a bit, because he knew that John would be mad if it wasn't right. He gave his father the food with a beer, then left the room as fast as possible. He went to his and Sammy's room and began to pack their things. He shoved all his clothes into one bag and Sam's into another. He headed back to the bathroom and took their toothbrushes and packed them away as his last task. When he was done Dean wondered if John meant for Dean to pack his fathers things as well. Dead didn't want to ask, he knew either way his father would be upset with him. Dean snuck his head into the living room and saw his father still watching the TV. Dean bit his lip and couldn't figure out what to do. It was nearing two o' clock and they would need to leave to get Sam soon. Thankfully John answered his question for him.

“Dean we're leaving now,” John shouted, not knowing Dean was just behind him. “Put your shit in the car.”

Dean went back to his and Sam's room and grabbed their bags and hulled them to the car. It wasn't far to go, but with his battered ribs it felt like ages. John came out right after him, he did not bother to lock the door of the house, making Dean wonder if he had rented it or if they had jut been squatting there. John unlocked the car and Dean threw their things into the trunk, then got in the back seat. Dean watched as the house disappeared into the distance.

It only took a couple minuets to get to the elementary school in the car, as they pulled up the bell rung. Kids ran out from the school and Dean could see Claire standing by the same tree as yesterday, she seemed to be looking for someone. Dean pondered if it was him. Then he saw Sam and Jimmy exit the school. Sam ran with Jimmy over to Claire. Dean held his breath. He watched them talk for a moment then saw Sam scan the area then point to the Impala. Dean was horrified as they all came walking over to the car.

“Dean, who's that?” John growled.

“It's—It's Sam's friends mom,” Dean answered.

As the group got closer Dean saw the moment when Sam and Claire both saw the bandages on his face. Sam ran to the car and opened the back door.

“Dean what happened?” Sam asked from outside the door.

“Nothing Sam, get in the car,” Dean said quickly.

“Dean...” Claire said softly, the shot John a look. “Mr. Winchester, can we talk?” She said sternly.

“No,” John spat. “Sam get in the car.”

“Dad,” Sam whined.

“Sam get in,” Dean forced.

Sam stood stock still for a moment then got in the car. He shut the door and Claire slammed her hand on the window. John stepped on the gas. Dean grabbed Sam's hand and sent him the message not to say anything. Sam nodded and held his brothers hand tighter. Dean cast a look back and saw Claire standing there pointing at the car and shouting something. Dean turned away and stared out the windshield, keeping his father in sight.

( Chapter 1: Obza ) ( Chapter 3: Mian )

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I don't know if I like how dark you made John, but Dean's story is so intriguing. I hope Henricksen is able to find proof to back up Dean's story.

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