Before This Night Ends

Redux

It was three in the morning and there was a knock at the door.

But John Winchester was already asleep in the other room.

Dean tore his gritty, aching eyes from the fuzz of the television, blinking numbly. Maybe he had imagined it, or it had been from the TV. Sam shifted next to him, mumbling something in his sleep.

The knock came again, sharp and terse.

Dean looked at the door, blankly. A neighbour? For a cup of sugar, at this hour...

"Hey, open up!" A muffled bark.

Dean scowled and turned away.

The knocking continued, sharp and loud, cutting through the haze of the late hour.

Dean shoved himself to his feet and stalked towards the door. If he wouldn't shut up, he'd give the asshole a piece of his mind.

He threw the door open as wide as he could, chain snapping taut, coming face-to-face with a thick, barrel chest. Dean's eyes trailed up the navy uniform, the black tie, the weathered, well-worn face. The police badge on his shoulder.

Dean's brain sparked and he slammed the door, stumbling backwards.

His heart raced wildly, and his lungs seemed to have forgotten how to take in oxygen. "Dd—" He tried, but his tongue seemed too big for his mouth, "Dad! DAD!!"

Sam's wide, scared eyes shone milky blue in the television's light.

Dean scrambled towards him, dragging his brother by the wrist towards his father's room.

"Dad!" He went to kick the door just as it opened, sending him stumbling forward. Dean stared at his bleary-eyed father. And his father's Glock .17.

"What is it?" John curled an arm in front of the boys, levelling the gun at the dim, yellowed apartment. "What's wrong?"

"The—the police," Dean nodded towards the door.

John's face soured, and he straightened up, ushering his sons towards the bathroom. "Go through the bathroom window and meet me at the car."

Dean hesitated, eying the way his father didn't shoulder the gun.

"Go!" John shoved his eldest forward and the pair lurched into a stumbling run.

*