Chapter Text
It was pouring rain and the storm was brewing… The trees were bending under the force of the wind which seemed determined to uproot as much as possible while lightning split the dark and cloudy sky.
A father was driving his car despite the downpour. He was frowning and had several days’ beard with a mustache gnawing at his mouth while his hazel eyes darted from the road to the rear-view mirror. He was wearing a brown leather jacket and an old worn-out jeans. His features were tired and he looked at least 10 years older than his age… He had preferred to take his children with him despite their young age, otherwise he would have left them in the motel room. He would have done it without any hesitation usually, he had been doing it since his eldest was able to take care of his little brother… that is for about 4 years. But the storm was raging and he had alienated the local police… He was determined to leave immediately after killing that fucking werewolf. After all, they wouldn't be at risk in the locked car…
On the back seat, two children whose one who wasn't really one anymore despite his 11 years. The tallest was dark blond with laughing green eyes, a large smile on his lips as he taunted his little brother… The said little brother, a little brunet with his father's eyes was glaring at him with an annoyed pout. However, the eldest was looking at him with affection, it was obvious.
Dean, the eldest, wasn't worried at all. If his father thought they were safe while he was hunting, then so be it. His father knew what he was saying, and he always obeyed his father… Anyway, since last year when Sam almost… But he would still carry a gun loaded with silver bullets, nonetheless.
And Sam, on the other hand, from his 7 years, was only seeing that he wouldn't be force to sleep in a bed that was too hard and smelly (And they say that children are innocent) and that his brother seemed at ease. Dean was his hero, his big brother, the one who was blowing on his wounds when he fell and who always gave him the last piece of chocolate, the one who comforted him when he was had nightmares and who covered for him when he did stupid things.…
The car finally stopped at the edge of a wood and John turned to them with stern eyes: "You stay there, you don't move. You wait for me. Dean, you watch out for your brother and if i didn’t come back by sunrise, you walk to the motel, okay?"
"Yes sir!" Dean replied as usual.
The man got out the car and slammed the car door loudly without a last look at his children. He opened the trunk of the Impala and took out a riffle loaded with silver. He followed the path that went up into the woods, the pathway where most of the victims had been found in pieces....
He was walking around in the mud for about an hour, without success. No howls, no suspicious noises, no furtive shadows and certainly no werewolves… John might look like a boor who didn't care but he was no less a dad and despite the hunt in progress, he was thinking about his boys alone in the car.
A crack brought him out of his thoughts. He turned briskly to his left, calming his breathing to aim better but the darkness remained deep and nothing came out...
A second crack to his right and John spun 180 degrees. All the muscles tensed, on alert, the finger slowly rubbing the trigger. But his breathing stopped when a gunshot echoed through the night, followed by a honk. A honk that he would recognize among thousands… The Impala's honk! Sam! Dean! Forgetting all notion of caution, he rushed through the wood, retracing his steps.… The cold air was whipping his face and the brambles were scratching his arms but he didn't care… All that mattered was his sons! The flesh of his flesh! What the fuck possessed him to take them on a werewolf hunt?
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Sam was dozing against his brother's shoulder, tired of asking him when their father would come back. Dean was passing his time flipping through a magazine, trying to move as little as possible so as not to wake his brother. For the thirtieth time, he looked at his watch and sighed. This wasn't normal… Killing a werewolf shouldn't take more than half an hour, the beast never resisting the bait that was the hunter… Alone on its territory. His father had already hunted some and it didn’t take so long. Slowly, he removed his arm from behind his brother and looked outside… Nothing. Either way, it was dark. He could only wait…
A few minutes and a dozen pages later, a loud noise echoed outside. Relieved, Dean turned towards the back window but there was no one there… He sighed and turned around. His first instinct was to scream upon seeing the beast on the hood of the car, but he restrained himself… Panic certainly would not help him.
He gently woke his brother who saw the creature as soon as he opened his eyes. He was about to scream when his brother's hand stopped him. "Sam, listen....", Dean whispered, pulling his brother lower, so as not to be seen by the lycan. "He didn't see us. You don’t say anything, okay? Don't make any sound...." The little brother nodded furiously as he was breathing too fast. "Good. I have a loaded silver gun, don't worry, okay? It's gonna be fine....", Dean whispered, his heart racing. Taking a deep breath and gripping his gun with a deft if trembling hand, he jumped up, aimed and fired.…
The bullet rushed and shattered the windshield, the beast howled and the gunshot probably echoed throughout the forest but Dean didn't want to take any chances and it was with extreme caution that he climbed over the front seat. Without further ado, Dean honked several times but something jumped on the windshield and shattered what little remained… This time, when the beast had just jumped into the passenger compartment, he could only shout… "Go away Sam! Go! Go get Dad!" He yelled to his brother who rushed outside calling out their father.
The lycan wanted to attack the small body that had fled from the car but a kick prevented it. Dean stormed out of the car, the beast on his heels… But it still seemed interested in his brother who was running in the other direction. Distraught and unarmed, Dean grabbed a rock and threw it at the beast, which landed in its face.
Dean stood petrified for a moment as the beast turned towards him, foaming with rage, its fangs protruding hungrily ready to shred flesh and its crazy eyes expressing all the bestiality the creature was capable of. If he ran that way, he was moving away from his father and therefore risk more but the lycan would leave Sam alone and his brother would be safe… That’s what mattered...
Swallowing hard, Dean ran as fast as he could, the lycan behind him… But he was only 11 years old and neither his legs nor his body were made for such a race… He wasn't running fast enough to lose or outrun the lycan and a painful side stitch was tiring him out. The werewolf was gaining ground and he couldn't help himself but cry after his father as tears ran down his cheeks.
The lycan jumped at him and Dean manage to dodge despite the fatigue tugging his aching limbs. Yet, he didn’t manage to dodge the claw of the beast which cruelly tore his stomach. Screaming, he got up with difficulty and ran with the strength of despair… One hand pressed against his abdomen and blood gushing from the gaping wounds, he continued to run, his mind empty of all thoughts. He just hoped Sammy was okay…
After a while, he collapsed and a nameless darkness enveloped him.