Risky Living - Destiel Fanfiction

Chapter One

     The rain gently sprinkled on my windshield, soothing me with the sound of approaching thunder from the distance.  Normally thunder would mean that a horrible storm would be nearing, which I didn't mind.  I like storms.  Deep down they have a sense of comfort for me.  Like Zeppelin music, yeah, that's my idea of relaxation.

I drove through a twisted lane that led me to a different side of town.  The rain began to grow more intense, each droplet shooting down from the grey clouds above like bullets, blocking most of my vision of the road ahead.  I smiled, listening to the tunes playing on the radio of my Chevy Impala, nodding my head to the beat. 

That was until I was interrupted by an obnoxious phone call. 

"Hey, Dean Winchester!" A cheery voice said from my cellphone that was now placed on my dashboard.  "You still coming to the bar tonight?"

It was Garth, a buddy from work. 

"Uh, who else is there?" I asked, concentrating on the road.  "Sorry, the rain's really horrible right now."

"Yeah no kidding," Garth chuckled.  "But, uh, it's me, Kevin, Charlie, and I think Benny too.  Kev and I are at Ellen's right now but we're still waiting on a few people."

"Okay," I replied dragging out my 'o' with a smile I knew he couldn't receive.   Garth was a good man, the husband of a beautiful woman, father of three amazing kids.  He's wanting to become a dentist, but currently working for my business is treating him well.  WIN.Chester Industries, you get it? "Win"?

Anyway, Garth on the other end was still awaiting my answer. 

"Yeah I—"

What the hell?

There was a scream in the distance, faint, very faint.  I could have sworn it was real, I wasn't able to make out any words, but I swear I heard something.

"Dean?" Garth asked.  I drive slowly around the street corner right in front of me, the noise growing louder.  At this point I rolled down my window and turned down Garth's voice, listening closer despite the fact that the heavy rain was pouring into my car.  I could make out a few words now, the word "stop" was constantly repeated. 

Then I saw it. 

I had driven up the street I had entered and found a struggle in between two tall brick buildings.  A boy, pushed up against the wall by another figure with a hood over their face.  The boy had his hands up, shaking his head and continuing to plead. 

"Please, I'm just an accountant from Wisconsin.  I'm just trying to get to my office—"

"Shut your mouth!" the attacker snapped, shoving a pistol into the boy's chest.

That's when I knew I had to do something. 

The boy went completely pale, tounge tied in a knot, unable to say a word.  I grabbed my phone and flung open the driver's door and leapt toward the scene as quickly as I could.  The harsh rain immediately flattened my hair the second I stepped out of the car.  I could feel my heartbeat increase, my blood rushing through my veins like an electric bolt of energy.  "Hey!" I yelled, trying to do anything to prevent the man from shooting. 

The hooded figure turned toward me, face covered by a hockey mask underneath.  He spun the gun around in his hand and pointed it straight at the boy's forehead.  I had pushed him down right when he had pulled the trigger.  The shot fired. 

The bullet bounced off the brick walls of the two building that formed the alleyway.  I had the hooded man pinned to the floor, putting all my weight on his shoulders so that he could not push me away from him.  But unfortunately he kicked me off with a free leg and I skidded along the concrete, the hooded man grabbing his gun and running away in the wet darkness.