Prequel: Carry On My Wayward Son.

Ch 15: You belong to me.

We went to Monica's house, but I felt a bit uneasy. Not only was John taking on a demon by herself, but we were sitting outside of Monica's house watching her and her wife eat dinner. This was creepy for me. Sam ran his hand through his hair, "Maybe we could tell them it was a gas leak. Might get them out of the house for a few hours."

"Yeah and how many times has that actually worked for us?" Dean said, looking out the window.

I laughed, "We could always tell em the truth."

All together, we chuckled, "Nah!"

"Sam we only got one move and you know it, all right?" Dean said seriously. "We gotta wait for that demon to show itself and then we get it before it gets them."

We all looked back at the house and stared for a while. Sam sighed, "I wonder how Dad's doing."

"I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up." Dean replied.

"I'd feel a lot better if he were here backing us up."

We sat there for what seemed like forever. I shook my head, "This is weird. It been over twenty years. It doesn't seem real."

"We just gotta keep our heads and do our job, like always." Dean nodded seriously, but he reached back over the seat and grabbed my hand to comfort me.

"Yeah but this isn't like always." Sam said, rubbing his forehead. He looked over, "Dean, I wanna thank you— for everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And ah...I don't know I just wanted to let you know, Just in case.."

"Whoa whoa whoa, are you kidding me?"

"Don't say just in case something happens to you." I argued.

"I don't wanna hear that freaking speech man. Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody. Except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?" Dean shouted.

We were all silent. Eventually, Dean pulled out his phone. After numerous attempts, Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket. "Dad's not answering."

"Maybe Meg was late. Maybe cell reception's bad." Sam sputtered, searching desperately for an excuse. "Maybe— Hey, listen." The radio started chattering and squeaking with static. Every station was like that. Then the wind picked up and the lights flickered.

I gasped, "It's coming."

We jumped out of the car. I used a bobby pin and unlocked the front door, and we quietly walked in. Sam and I went in first, then Dean followed. We made it into the living room, but Monica's husband swung at Dean's head. He missed, smashing a lamp. "Get out of my house!"

I came at him from behind, getting the bat out of his hand and pushing him up against the wall with it. I said as calmly as possible while still pinning him, "Please, calm down. We just want to talk."

"Obviously!" He spit in my face.

"You know," I said, wiping my cheek on my shoulder. "That was really rude."

We heard from upstairs, "Charlie? Is everything okay?"

He yelled in reply, "Monica, get the baby!"

Sam shouted, running up the stairs, "Don't go in the nursery!"

"You stay away from her!" The man screamed, finding the strength to knock me backwards. I smacked my head on the corner of a coffee table.

"Salem!" Dean shouted, punching the father in the face and knocking him out. Then he helped me up. "Are you okay?"