Still Here-Destiel

Still Here -2-

They had put on their FBI suits, or monkey suits as Dean calls them, parking the Impala in front of a white suburban house with dark green bushes littering the front. The house seemed dark on the inside, although the sun was shining brightly above them. Sam knocked on the navy wooden door, straightening his overcoat while Dean fumbled with his collar for a moment. A man with jet black hair answered the door, his eyes swollen red, most likely or maybe even drugs at this point. He glanced between the two questionably before Sam pulled out his FBI badge along with Dean, the gold plate reflecting the luminescent light of the sun.

"We're sorry to bother you Mr. Aubrey, but I'm Agent Gabriel and this is my partner Agent Collins, do you mind if we ask you about what happened that night with your wife?" Sam asked calmly, his presence serene but the man only looked back with confusion evident on his face.

"I already spoke to the cops about what happened. Are you sure this is necessary?" They both nodded, the man allowing them inside the dull house, walking into the foyer to notice photos of a long haired brunette woman with dark green eyes and always smiling. Sad to think she was dead now. The brothers got a better look at the man, noticing his tattered black T-shirt and blue jeans with no shoes, and unshaven. He was a wreck alright. "Let's talk in the living room." The man led them to the right, the living room now present with its black leather couches and white paint coating the walls. Photos were scattered everywhere, while a TV hung on the back wall in front of the largest couch with a glass coffee table separating them, magazines littering it. Suddenly, Sam noticed a teenage boy resting on the couch, his dark blue eyes fixed on the screen. Mr. Aubrey realized too because he ran his hand through his hair before it fell down to rub his face. "Finn, can you go to your room for me?" The brothers got a better look at the boy, noticing he had jet black hair like his father as well as bright blue eyes. He was silent, only sitting up and beginning to walk out of the room shrugging past the 'agents' and his father, clearly upset. They heard the stomping of footsteps on the wooden stairs they saw earlier in the foyer before the slamming of a door was heard as well. "I'm uh sorry about my son agents. He's always been fairly unsocial but after the incident, well, it just got worse. He barely even speaks to me anymore." Mr. Aubrey sighed, his red, puffy eyes glancing down at the floor in shame.

"It's okay, we've seen it many times before but you know, my partner here is pretty good with kids so maybe he can talk to him." Sam, or Agent Gabriel, stated, a reassuring smile plastered on his face. Dean looked at him with his eyebrows furrowed but didn't say a word.

"I mean, you could give it a try Agent Collins, second door on your left. I don't know what to do anymore." Sam nodded in understanding, guiding the shattered man to the couch while he jerked his head towards the wooden stairs in the foyer to tell Dean to go upstairs. The older complied, sauntering up the loud lumber steps as he moved until Sam heard the creaky sound of the door opening and closing, turning back to Mr. Aubrey who sat on the black leather couch while Sam sat in the armchair. His arms rested on his knees as he hunched over to listen to the man with a reassuring expression.

"Don't worry Mr. Aubrey, if anyone can get your son to talk, it's him. He lost his mom when he was young too." Mr. Aubrey's eyes lit up with hope, though a grim frown plastered his face.

"I'm sorry to hear that. No one should have to go through that... " His words shied away at the end, his eyes falling on his twiddling thumbs.

"So, what can you tell me about that night. Anything weird, such as a smell of sulfur, cold spots?"

-

Dean knocked on the white wooden door, noticing the scratches on the side of the archway. He was thankful Sammy let him talk to the kid instead of talking to the man. The kid opened the door, noticing the agent and glancing him up and down with a murderous glare. The walls were navy blue, photos on the floor, while a mirror was toppled over as well as a lamp. It looked as if some WWE fighter came in and trashed the place. The kid moved back onto the bed, not sparing Dean a glance as he whipped his phone out and placed in his Apple earbuds, shutting his eyes and resting his arms behind his head. Meanwhile, Dean searched the room, noticing a few pillows strewn on the other side of the bed. As he was curiously looking, the kid spoke in a confident and monotone voice.