Nine-year-old Dean followed his father and little
brother out to the Impala. He carried
their duffels. John placed them in the
trunk and told his older son to get into the car.
Dean sat in the back seat, his brother’s head in his
lap. The younger Winchester slept the
entire drive. The older boy ran his
fingers through the thick head of hair, tears going down his face. He remained quiet, not wanting his father to
see him crying.
The evening replayed in his young mind. His Dad was right. He had almost gotten Sammy killed. It was his fault. It had not helped that he had frozen when the
monster attacked his brother. He had
failed Dad and Sammy.
Dean Winchester sat up straight, a determined look on his young face.
‘I’ll do whatever Dad says from now on. Can’t let Sammy be hurt,’ the young boy’s
thoughts were determined. His heart
ached over what his disobedience had almost cost him.
Castiel sat in the front seat, looking back at his
charge. The hazel eyes were glistening,
and the angel could see the heartache the boy was trying to contain.
‘Father, John Winchester needs to comfort his son. Please, Father. Make him realize.’
‘I cannot do that, my Son. A major part of Dean’s personality formed
tonight. He will obey whatever John
Winchester tells him to do. It will be a
point of contention with Sam Winchester.
One day, Sam will learn of this event and he will understand this part of Dean.’
The angel saw more tears fall and thought of ways to
torture the father. Surely Father would not be offended by ideas as long as they were not carried out?
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