1996

Mama, Theres Wolves in the House

Dean's running list of odd events was getting a little too big for the dog days. Even with John nowhere to be seen, he usually felt capable of dealing with these things. But this shit was weird and not in the scary, murder-y way that he'd grown used to. The comet, the tree-It was a cosmic anomaly wrapped in the mystery of a drunken night; seemingly unsolvable.

The boys pulled into their driveway, Sam was still fidgeting with the thing Sean gave them. They walked inside, Dean barely had time to close the door behind him before he heard heavy footsteps coming toward them.

"Where the hell were you?!" John looked exhausted, his beard wild and eyes bags heavy on his dark eyes. He reeked of booze and cigar smoke. Clothes disheveled and dirty, he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

Immediately he was in Dean's face. John had a growl in his voice that made Dean instinctively shove Sam behind him. "I had to go get the truck, dad. I'm sorry I didn't think you'd be home."

John laughed, a sickeningly condescending chuckle. "Of course. I'm with Bobby hunting the bitch that killed Tom and you're going out getting piss drunk, leaving Sam alone in the house all night!" John had Dean pressed against the door now,
hand grabbing hard at his hair.

Sam had moved off to the side, head hung down. It broke Dean's heart, he hated when Sam saw him like this. He adored that Sam looked up to him but the responsibility of being a role model was a lot of stress.

Dean said nothing, just froze like a deer. In these moments, any good part of his father was hard to see. He had a cloud of rage encircling him. He moved closer, putting his hand in Dean's hair, tugging it back and slamming against the door. "This pack is tracking me, I gotta get the two of you the hell out of here before they come. Pack your shit up, we're leaving tonight."

"Yes sir," Dean practically bolted up the stairs, the door slamming behind him.

He had thought the girl was an omega, she shouldn't have a pack. Not after they killed most everyone in the nest. Dean shivered every time he thought of it. Werewolves could be tame, live normally, but feral dogs have to be put down. At least that's what John said.

Dean sighed, sitting down on his bed, even without his father touching him he felt like he could barely move. His hands were shaking, and his heart wouldn't stop beating. His eyes began to well up with tears; he was afraid of closing them. Once he did all he saw was guilt: Sam being ripped apart by canines, Cas being dragged off into the woods through the cornfields, Dean's stomach shredded by claws and fangs.

"Her alpha bit her before we got there, or she found someone to kill and take their pack over because she's backed by about ten giant fuckin' mutts." John grumbled as he barged into the room. He had a beer in his hand, took a swig before closing the door.

Dean clenched up, uneasy with his Dad getting closer. He wasn't usually like this, but the cases have been building up, so have the years. His dad was the best hunter, intelligent and deadly. However, years of being unable to put the head of the yellow eyed demon on a stake made him insecure. He was reckless to prove he could kill anything that threatened him or his family.

      "Dean."

"Yeah, Dad?" He tried to hide the quiver in his voice, the tears that were clung to the back of his throat. He grabbed his knife out of his pocket, beginning to sharpen it just so he didn't have to meet his father's gaze.