Supernatural: Fallen Son

Just When You Thought It Was Safe...

'Yes, Gerald. I know that the electricity bill isn't gonna wait for Tim to finish school - though I think that my... our child's education is more important.' Spoke Sheila icily into a little mobile phone, whilst watching a small child in a blue waterproof coat - dawdling around in a playground.
This was Tim, and this was another day where he was meant to be at school. Gerald wouldn't give into reason. Apparently he'd moved into another house, with someone unspecified, and kept sending Sheila the bills for his frivolous life. And, as a result, their old life suffered heavily.

Unbeknownst to Sheila, however, there stood someone in the bushes behind her. Mimicking her behaviour of silently watching her child stood a man. A man in a clean, white suit and tie - and with sandy-coloured hair and skin. An eyelid clicked horizontally over his eyes - glinting in the light of a passing airplane. He picked a lump of meat from his teeth, and then started to play with a treebranch as he waited for his cue.
'We can't go on like this, Ger. And yes... I do know that there isn't an 'us' anymore - you don't have to say it like that. Stop that.' Sheila started to lose control. Tim looked at his mother through the bars of a climbing frame. He stared between his mother... and the branches behind her that'd started to move about 2 minutes ago.

A single, clawed hand started to worm its way from the foliage, and the breath froze in little Tim's chest. Sheila turned slowly, and then yelped as the arm clasped around her throat. Its metallic fur dug into her neck - drawing blood. The musculature of the limb tightened and then relaxed as it dragged Sheila straight backwards out of sight. The last thing that Tim heard from his mother was a frantic scream, and then a ripping sound as her intestines were removed.

'So we've got the silver, right?' Double-checked Sam as he sat down in the passenger seat of the Impala. He slipped an antihistamine into his mouth, and held it gently between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Yet another random class of drug - to see what would work to get 'Trial fever' under control...
'The latest kill site was at a playground just south of here.' Announced Dean, and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal of the car. The revs of the engine drowned out Sam's heavy breathing.
Sam swallowed the pill, and then grabbed a tin of mints from the front compartment on the dashboard. The smell of long-since-off tacos gently emanated from the little cupboard, and Sam looked at Dean with a glare that read 'when can we get this car sanitised?'
Dean chuckled slightly, and steered down a murky two-lane road - in the cold morning.