Don't You Cry No More

“I think Dad wants us to pick up where he left off- saving people; hunting things; the family business…”

Those were the words that said it all. From the very beginning, Sam and Dean Winchester never lived the normal, everyday life. Their father raised them to be hunters- supernatural hunters. You know like demons, lycans, vampires, vengeful spirits, and pretty much anything that hides under your bed or in your closet at night. Of course, why would anyone want to do such a job when they could be out living life at its fullest? That’s something that theses men would like to know too.

Back in 1983 when Sam was only six months and Dean was four years old, their mother died in a paranormal fire in Sam’s nursery room. What made it so unnatural from the rest? No thanks to a no good, two timing yellow-eyed demon who they later find out was named Azazel, pinning her to the ceiling of the nursery covered in her own blood. According to the demon, she was just in the way of a plan that he had for little Sammy. The boys struggled to live on the road with their father, John Winchester, in random and cheap motel rooms; never getting the chance to live in a normal environment like the rest of the world. John raised his boys to be soldiers; to save the lives of many; to kill off everything and anything out of the ordinary.

Today, Dean and Sam are on the road alone in a fiery black ’67 Chevy Impala searching for another case a few miles down from their hometown of Lawrence, Kansas. Without their father being by their side, they feel somewhat incomplete. Through all the struggles and battles they overcame with each other, nothing could stop the love of family no matter what would come between them…

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“Find anything?” Dean asked his younger brother, packing up the last of his weapons in his brown duffel while Sam was sitting in front of his laptop, searching through various police reports for another case. It was another day as the great Winchesters, fighting off supernatural creatures to rescue lives. Dean had only wished that things could have gone a little smoother the last few months; losing their father was too much of a tragedy to admit they were brokenhearted.

John made a deal with the yellow-eyed demon to save Dean’s life after a ghastly car crash. Though he didn’t come right out and say it, but the boys knew what the man was quite capable of. Sam had taken it pretty hard, since he wasn’t much on speaking terms with him before his loss which he significantly regretted. Dean however mourned in silence, not once shedding a tear in front of his little brother.

“Topeka,” Sam declared blankly, gazing at the battered screen and aimlessly scrolling through what seemed like thousands of reports, was on about twenty.

Dean briefly glanced up at him, questioning his brother before returning to his shotguns, knives, and other necessities. “Topeka? You mean like ‘twenty-miles away from Lawrence’ Topeka?”

He shook his head. “Yeah,” Sam replied, continuing to search through reports that really caught his eye. “Says here that there has been four murders within the same week; all the victims were found tied down to a chair and being gagged by rags, soaked with blood.”

“Is there any suspects?”

“The spouses- just like a flashback in St. Louis last fall.”

Dean grunted irritatingly, thinking back at that case. They were going after a lycan, or as they liked to call ‘shape-shifters.’ The shape-shifter had formed itself to portray as Dean. Of course while the shifter was on the run, it was caught by the FBI trying to kill an innocent college friend of Sam’s. Luckily, they killed the lycan but Dean is now a wanted man for murder. “Damn St. Louis,” he muttered to himself as he closed his bag shut, “looks like we’re heading back towards home again.”

-

About an hour later, the Winchesters were on the road again. They had a long way to go to get to Topeka, Kansas but that never stopped them since there was that possibility of these murders being connected to a shape-shifter. Classic rock hits blasted through the speakers of the Chevy Impala, Dean in the driver’s seat and Sam in shotgun like usual. It was the car that their father passed down to Dean on his eighteenth birthday, which from that day on he had grown greatly obsessive over and rarely let his brother drive.

Either way, that wasn’t an issue at the time. The boys had a lot on their plate as it was to worry about something so modest. Dean kept flashing back to when he was lying in the hospital bed, out of the coma and very much alive. Sam was too astonished by how much of a miracle it was that Dean was okay. He wouldn’t know what to do if he didn’t have Dean by his side. When Dean and John were alone, John whispered in his eldest son’s ear what startled him a little too much. Dean has yet to tell his brother what his last few words were.

“Did he say anything to before he died?” Sam questioned the night of their father’s death as his corpse was burning in flames before their eyes

Dean had kept a straight face the entire time. He didn’t want to lie to his brother, but whatever it was that his father said made him. “No.”

Putting a good ten miles in the rearview mirror, the car was nothing but silence between the brothers despite the music that Dean would randomly break-out to. Sam had one question that was nagging at him the whole time since that night their father passed. He had asked it before, but the way his brother was he couldn’t be too sure with anything that came out of his mouth.

Sam sighed and veered his eyes away from the endless tree line, zipping by outside his window as he glanced at Dean who was humming to one of his tunes, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He was half leery on asking the question for the second time, but it was something he had to get off his chest even if he got no where.

“Are you sure Dad didn’t say anything to you before he died?” he asked sheepishly, as if he was playing a video of that night inside his head when questioning him.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, gazing over at his brother skeptically. He knew Sam well enough to know that he was going to keep asking until he got the answer he wanted, but there was no point in endeavoring to tell him the truth- well, so he thought because it was all too obvious by the look on his face that what he said was about him. Dean wasn’t going to tell his brother that, not now anyway. “Sam, we’ve been through this before. He didn’t say anything. He just walked out of the room and bam- he’s gone.”

Sam shook his head, disbelieving at what Dean had just said. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his older brother; it was because they both knew when one is hiding something from the other. He turned his eyes straight ahead out the windshield, viewing the back country road they were following. Something in the pit of his stomach kept telling him to continue picking his brain for information, even though Dean was as stubborn as they can be. “Are you sure?” He reassured, hoping he’d get something out of him instead of another argument but that wasn’t the case.

His brother’s overconfident expression didn’t fade much, cocking a brief smile back at him so he wouldn’t loose his cool. Dean was already on thin ice and the ice was about to crack if Sam was going to be persistent on the twenty questions. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Dean stated casually; trying to fool his brother wasn’t going to cut it.

“Don’t lie to me, Dean,” Sam said sternly, staring at him in a serious manner.

A small chuckle fell from his brother’s lips. “Sammy, come on. Can we just drop the subject already?”

Sam couldn’t believe him. He was practically lying right through his teeth and yet he’s too blind to realize Sam knew that. “Dean, you should know me by now. I pick out those things in you.”

“What are you, some kind of psychic now? Oh wait- that’s right, you are a psychic freak.” Dean retorted, referring to Sam’s ability to see the future. He had been getting weird visions that involved people being murdered that ended up coming true. Dean didn’t know whether to believe it was true or not, while Sam struggled to pull his head together when another blood-rushing headache kicked in, meaning that he was having another vision.

With the roll of the eyes, Sam instantly became frustrated. “Enough of the jokes, alright? I’m sick of you trying act like Dad’s death isn’t bothering you, when you know quite well that it’s killing you inside.”

“Oh is that so?”

“Yes it is, and you know what? I think that Dad told you something about me and that’s why you aren’t telling me this.”

Dean knew his brother was smarter than he thought, but when he starts talking back and catching him in the act that was the final straw. Dean slammed on the brakes; skidding fiercely across the blacktop and not really caring if anyone was behind him and would ram into his precious car. He wasn’t going to pull off on the side of the road anymore, not when he was this agitated. As fumigated as he was with Sam, he knew deep down telling him from the start what their father told him would have been the better thing to do, but just like Dean- Stubbornness got the best of him.

“Get out of the car!” Dean shouted, pointing a finger towards the door and forcing his younger brother to leave.

Sam’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I said get out!”

“Fine, I will!”

Sam pushed open the door to the Impala, not caring if he would rip the door off its hinges or not. The car wasn’t his and he didn’t care what Dean thought at the moment. He just grabbed his bag and fled out the door, slamming it roughly behind him before Dean could holler at him for it. As Sam strutted in the opposite direction of the car, his older brother shook his head angrily and proceeded down the quiet back road. Could they get their brotherly love back to how it used to be- back before their Dad had died? This time they would need a miracle to get them through.