Moondust {A Destiel Fanfic}

Chapter One: The Start

Dean was seven when it begun. He was fast asleep in his room when he heard gunfire from outside. Afraid, Dean jump out of bed and into the hall to find out what was happening. "I'll get Dean! Load the car!" He heard his mother shout. The sound of footsteps made Dean feel safe. His mother would explain. She always does.
When his mother made it into the hall, she looked down both paths before spotting Dean standing in the hall, afraid and confused. "Dean! Baby!" Mary ran over to her son and scooped him up in her arms. "Mommy? What's going on? I hear loud noises!" Dean looked into his mother eyes, hoping for some kind of reassurance. "Don't worry baby..mommy will protect you okay?" Dean slowly nodded as Mary quickly began packing her son's belongs, holding back any emotion that could cause her son any distress.
As soon as she packed, she took off with her son and joined John in the Impala. "Drive." John quickly took off driving out of the driveway, with a dark expression. Dean looked out the window, and regret doing that because what he saw was monsters. Real life monsters and death. Death everywhere. It was chaos outside. "Don't worry...Angels are watching over us," Mary whispered, reassuring her shaking son.
Dean didn't really remember much of what happened after. Only about meeting up with Bobby and his wife and stepdaughter Jo. After that, Dean found himself learning to shoot guns and use weapons like knifes, bats, and even a machete. His father, John, grew tough on him. Dean found himself practicing more than playing or doing anything considered childish. By the age fourteen, he was the perfect soldier. He never questioned his father, and he knew everything that he could about the monster that lurk outside.
Then at fifteen, Dean found himself a big brother to one Samuel Winchester. Dean remembered how surprised he was, considering the circumstances, that his parents were having another child. When Sam was born, Dean made a vow. He was to protect that boy from everything and anything that threatens to do harm to him.
When Sam was six months, Mary Winchester passed away after the house set on fire when they got hoarded by monsters that managed to break through Bobby's defense systems. Dean remembered when John shoved Sam into his arms and told him to run with the child to safety. Of course, Dean didn't hesitate to run out.
After that, John wasn't the same. He put up a wall, began his old drinking habits, and blankly refused to care for Sam. Dean found doing John's job and raising his brother. Three years past when John Winchester went missing. Dean was out on a supply run with him when a hoard of Vamps (a type of zombie) which crowded them while they tried to take a bite out of their necks. Of course after all of them were dead, John was gone. Dean spent hours looking for John (dead or alive) only to find nothing.
Dean always thought he would come back. He liked to believe his father was only gone because he found something more important to attend but would come right back.
Except as days past, Dean lost hope. Until one day, Bobby came home with the saddest look on his face. He sat Dean down and explained how he found his father's corpse rotting away in a ditch. Apparently he was turned before somebody managed to put him down.
Dean cried every night for the past two weeks after that.

After the death of his father, everything changed when Dean saved a small group from a hoard of werewolves. Dean was finishing up the last of his supply run when he heard screaming. He dropped whatever he was doing and ran outside. That's when he noticed the group huddled together as the werewolves surrounded them about to pounce and bite.
Dean, being his hero self, found himself helping the group of strangers. He blew a loud whistle to catch the hoards attention. "Hey flea bags!" He yelled. Dean reached for his gun, and pulled it out once they began charging for him. Without hesitation, Dean shot down as many wolves as he could before they retreated.
Smirking, Dean turned to the group of people. "You know-becoming a werewolf is the worst type of zombie to become. It hurts like hell and you become all hairy and shit," Dean told them as he approached the group which slowly began to unhuddle. "Little word of advice, don't piss off the wolves. They happen to have sharp teeth and nails, plus silver bullets isn't easy to make anymore."