The Accident

The Beginning

        Dean Winchester died August 9, 1995. It was a routine hunt. Salt and burn the bones of a ghost that had a gotten a little too violent. Sam had relented and then outright refused to get out of the car when John had said it was time to go, but Dean accepted it and told Sam that they'd be back in a short while. All three had plans to shower in the hotel room that was a lot nicer than normal, and none of them wanted to stay out there any longer than they had to. Sam sat back and waited for his brother and father to come back, but they had taken far longer than they should have. Sam got restless and then decided to search for them. He jumped out of the black car with a sawed off in his hand. He set off at a brisk pace, dread rolling around his gut like a black fog, tendrils snaking out and causing him to quicken his steps. Meanwhile Dean and John had long since burned the bones of the pesky ghost. Only problem was that it was a lot more than they had expected. The entity had attached itself to Dean before the bones were burnt, so that when John had tried to burn them, he had only caused his oldest unimaginable agony. John had rushed to the flaming bones as his son writhed and screamed on the ground, memories of the fire in the nursery coursing through his mind, causing him to take longer than he should. He snuffed them out as quickly as he could though. Dean's screams had tapered off into shallow pants, body quivering with exertion. John had then laid a hand on his son's forehead, going to ask his son if he was alright, when the normally emerald green orbs of his son's eyes snapped open revealing a blood red to shine through instead. John's hand snapped back to his side as his surprise caught him off balance. He had hesitantly asked Dean if he was alright, but Dean had only answered with a cold stare. He sat up and John back-pedaled, knowing that Dean was no longer Dean. As Sam finally ran up to the clearing where the bones had been buried, he was met with a disturbing sight. John was unconscious laying against a tree. Dean was standing in the center of the clearing head tilted to the side as if he was listening for something. His head spun around when Sam pushed through the heavy undergrowth. Dean's name died on Sam's lips when he saw Dean's blood red eyes and then Dean bolted out of the clearing. Worried about John and knowing full well that things had gone downhill, and would continue to get worse, he rushed to his father's side. After rousing John and learning as much as John knew, they both took off in the direction that Dean had taken. Eventually they had ran into a cliff, with Dean standing too close to the edge. Dean's head had snapped up at the other guys' approach and he slowly turned around. John tried in vain to get the thing in Dean to move away from the edge, but the thing refused. He told John and Sam that they deserved to lose someone they loved just like it had. The thing moved Dean's body towards the edge. John and Sam pleaded desperately, both on their knees, resorting to begging because of the fact that any thing they did to help now would only hurt, possibly kill, Dean. The thing only shook Dean's head. It told them that they would get one last glimpse at the real Dean before he would be sent over the edge. All of a sudden Dean's eyes flashed back to his normal green. The pupils were blown with panic and they were pleading with John to do something. He opened his mouth cried in frustration and fear. When his body didn't follow his commands, and he was still to close to the edge for comfort, he begged for his daddy to help him. He begged and cried, shattering his father's heart. His face was covered in tears and he was sobbing uncontrollably when his eyes focused on something behind John. John had tears in his eyes as well, staring unbelievably at the figure that was forming. The figure was a middle aged man, with sorrow filled eyes and grief lines etched deeply into his face. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, blood slowly trickling down the side of his face. He walked past John and Sam without a second glance and made his way towards Dean. Dean was frozen to the spot and was staring with terror as the man made his way towards him. John just now realizing what the man was planning on doing, hastily brought out a .45. He stood and aimed the gun at the man that was now inches from Dean. John shouted a warning before firing the gun and watching in horror as the man turned towards him, arms open, and fell backwards. The bullet exploded into the man, and he screamed as the rock salt sent him away, but the weight of his body against Dean's had made Dean unbalanced, teetering on the edge, arms outstretched searching for a way to stop his fall. Sam shouted and John raced to where his boy was. Just as Dean disappeared, John lunged and made a grab for his son. His hand grasped another, smaller hand, and John grunted with pain as his arm was stretched. John told his son to hang on, that he was here to help, that everything was going to be okay when Dean looked over his shoulder with unimaginable terror. John heard Sam shout, and then his body was being tossed aside. Dean screamed as his grip in his fathers hand was wrenched free and he was falling. Sam shot the entity that had thrown John and ran to the edge of the cliff, screaming for his brother. John shouted and screamed as they both watched Dean fall. Dean's body bounced off of boulders as he fell, and his screams were silenced. They watched in horror as his body hit the rushing rapids below with a splash. They both jumped into action and found their way down the side of the cliff to the banks below. They searched for two days, calling in Caleb and the men to help. After the third morning they grudgingly accepted the fact that Dean wasn't going to be found. After the search was called off, they made their way back to the Impala.   They had headed to Bobby's to break the news to their one and only trusted friend. Both the remaining Winchesters coped with their loss in different ways. John shut down completely, at a loss for words and completely overridden by the grief of losing his oldest. Sam shouted and cried, screaming and sobbing, blaming John for letting this happen, blaming himself for not doing anything to stop it, and blaming God for allowing such a wonderful brother to be taken from him in such a horrible manner. The years went on and both the Winchesters decided to stake up permanent residence in Bobby's house, only traveling now and again to hunt. John still looked for the thing that had killed his wife, but it wasn't with as much obsession as a couple of years before. John realized that his little crusade wasn't as important as his remaining son, and the two of them became closer than ever. They often took vacations to national parks, ballgames, and movies. They slowly got over the loss of Dean, never really too far out of mind, but not overpowering their every thought and action.