Destiel // numb, fallen angel

Mother, any distance

It's November 2nd, 1982. The house was silent. Too silent. An eerie feeling awoke Dean from his bed. He made nothing of it and laid there until he fell back asleep.

It's been 2 hours.

Suddenly, a high, screeching sound of glass breaking awoke the household, the pain of the sound bringing them immense discomfort. John, Dean's dad, went to collect Sam from his nursery as he is shrieking from his cot.

Something was not right. Dean went to his parents bedroom to find his mum. She was not there.
This time he started to panic, "mum?" Dean whispered agonisingly, "Are you there?"
Still no reply was given. Dean wasn't allowed to check the noise out downstairs but he could hear footsteps creaking around downstairs.

A gut wretched feeling overcame him, making every hair stand up on his body. The footsteps stopped and a deep, demonic chuckle came from downstairs, before Dean heard the door open and the man was gone.

He bolted downstairs, checking every room for damage or taken property. Instead, he found his mother, swimming in her own warm blood. The vermillion colour was stained into Dean's mind as he stood there, Staring in her once so, light-filled eyes. Now they were soulless. What once use to be a deep sapphire, loving colour. instantly turned into a dull grey.

"D-d-DAD!" Dean stuttered, "Dad it's mum" there was now abrupt footsteps stomping like a herd of elephants down the stairs. John dropped to his knees with Sammy in his arms. Dean's eyes now filled with tears. They both stayed staring at her for the next half hour. Not one word left either of their mouths. Not one sound to be exact. The silence was gut wrenching. Dean could bare it no longer and ran out of the house to clear his mind.

John didn't care or mind his son just ran off, in the middle of the night, on his own. He knelt, knee deep in her crimson blood, grabbing tightly onto her hand. He let go of Sammy. He was only a baby. But all of a sudden, john didn't care. A feeling swept through him and his attitude had changed. He's never been the same ever since.

It's been 6 years since her death. Dean now had full responsibility of Sammy as their father was drowning in alcohol every day.

Sam knows dean use to be more playful, and energetic. But he can tell as the years go by he is slowly drained of emotion.

Through various jobs dean had to take, he was able to by a small shack, away from the memories of the old house. Him and Sammy where ready too move in and set off. Their dad, on the other hand, got so furious at the idea he punched a wall so hard he broke his hand. They decided to leave him behind.

This new neighbourhood was very peaceful. It was in the country side that ended with soft, chalky cliffs over looking the calm, crystal ocean. They lived about a 10 minute walk from the ocean.

"Hey Sammy you go pick your room and unpack." Dean said coldly. Sam picked the bigger room, of course, which was located at the Southend of the shack. Dean took the on at the front.

It's been three days and the two boys have settled into their home. They made no attempt to introduce themselves, although Sammy wanted to.

It was more quiet and pleasant without their father constantly shouting that everything dean did was wrong and he was a mistake. At this, dean was content. That is until a drumming knock at the door brought dean to answer it. It was him, their dad. 

"You chose THIS house, this DUMP, over your old man, Over your mother." He exclaimed drunkenly. The fire in his eyes grew a substantial amount which frightened Dean. He froze. John pulled out a pocket knife, he was clearly drunk and upset his family abandoned him in such a way. But that doesn't account for why he is armed.

He took a few slurred swings at dean but missed each one. John became dizzy and fell, he got knocked out cold. Dean was traumatised at how much his dad has turned into less of a father by each month. Dean knew this isn't a safe environment for Sammy, so he called uncle bobby to come take care of him.

Dean checked to see if Sam was okay.

"Why is dad angry at you? Did you hurt his feelings?" Innocently asked the six year old.

"Hey, it's okay Sammy, dad wasn't himself. Do not remember him like this!" dean stated.

Sam nodded back at him and wondered why he couldn't go out;
"we don't know the neighbourhood  yet, if we find a friend they can take you around but I don't want to go out there."

At this sam knew there was little point in arguing. However, legally Sam had to start school again where as dean was a dropout to get money to support the family.

The weekend was over, Sam's first day of school. He was the odd one out, everyone was whispering behind his back.

The end of the day came and Dean picked him up. He noticed Sammy's miserable face and questioned him about his day. Sammy told him about the kids at school. Dean felt a rage overcome him. Sam gave him a name of one of the kids. Gabriel.

Dean acknowledged this and wanted to talk to this kid and his parents to ask why they brought up a prick. Sammy didn't let him.