Home At Last

Jessica Dawn

Please Note: This is my first shot at a Supernatural fic. I'm not an inexperienced author, simply inexperienced in the genre. I've also been out of the fanfiction scene for quite some time. I hope to be able to answer any questions you guys have for me, as long as they don't ruin the plot for anybody. I have the basic outline for this story in my head, but I am writing it as I go, and filling in the details. Hopefully as we progress I can give you guys a rough idea of a schedule for when to expect the chapters to come, and hopefully I'll make a marked improvement as time goes on. If you guys feel I'm severely altering characters, I do apologize, and let me know. There may be a reason for it.

This first chapter is literally only going to be on its own for a few hours. I'm running out for a bit, and wanted to get something up to try and get some feedback to see if you guys think I should continue on with it.

And fear not. Daddy Winchester and Sammy will definitely be making later appearances.

This fic is considered a rough AU stemming right from the opening scenes in Pilot.

Thanks a lot for taking the time to read this – it means a lot to me.

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Fire burned all around him, the heat crashing in on him and suffocating him. Any oxygen that could have entered the small boy's lungs was stolen at the last possible second by the flames that were engulfing his home. Firemen had yet to arrive on the scene, but that meant very little to him, as his bare feet pounded their way up the stairs. It wasn't the fire he was afraid of – At four, his concept of heat was a nice summer day at the beach, and he'd had no clue how hot to expect the house to be when he'd run back in. It was his father that he was more afraid of. 'Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! NOW DEAN, GO!' the words could only have been moments old, and he was already disobeying them. He'd taken Sammy outside; made sure he was far away from the house and put him near the mailbox at the end of the driveway, where he'd deemed it safe.

But Mommy wasn't safe. He'd seen her up there, the fire lifting her all the way to the ceiling – at least he thought that was what he'd seen. Alone, Daddy couldn't reach her, but maybe, just maybe with him, they'd be able to get her down. Mommy had to be okay too. It was supposed to be that way. Mommy and Daddy and Dean and Sammy. They were a family, and they all had to be together for everything to be okay. He was making his way down the upstairs hall when he'd heard the loud creak from above him, and before he'd even had the chance to look, one of the oak beams that supported the ceiling fell, and he was pinned to the floor, face down.

"Daddy!" He cried out, his free arm – the left – reaching up towards the nursery that he was sure his father was still in. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shift the heavy piece of wood, and as the fire raged around him, it became harder and harder to breathe, let alone call out. His father had run past him, and he had choked on smoke rather than cried out. Daddy hadn't even looked down when he'd backpedalled from the nursery and nearly thrown himself down the stairs. Daddy thought he was outside with Sammy, and his shriek only escaped his lips as the fireball exploded from the room.

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He bolted upright in his bed, cold sticky sweat dripping down his face, his arms, as the blankets fell from him. They were a mess about the bed, half pulled off of him, dumped mostly onto his girlfriend. She merely shifted in her sleep, blonde curls tangling themselves even more as she curled up on her side, happy for the blankets that had apparently been given to her. A small smile came to his face seeing her next to him, and he leaned over, kissing the back of her head. Jessica was a constant in his life. He'd known her almost as long as he could remember, since shortly after he arrived in Jackson, and she was all he really had left.

It was when he pulled away from the kiss that she rolled over, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with the heel of her palm, "What's up?" She asked, turning completely onto her stomach, sidled up against him in the bed. Her arm found its way over his legs, fingers expertly weaving comforting circles on his thigh.

He shrugged noncommittally, running his hands over his face. He had to get over this. These nightmares had haunted him his entire life, whether it was the Winchester home, or the Thompson home... It didn't matter which set of parents burned, simply that they did. They always did. The ones he was too young to save and the ones he was too late to save... He failed them all, and it wasn't being able to feel exactly how intense the flames were, waking up and still having the scars from his youth marring the side of his body, it was that failure that bothered him. That he wasn't good enough.

"It's okay, Dean," her voice was soft, and she shifted even more, rising until she could sit up, smooth skin snaking over his bare shoulders, that gentle squeeze, the feeling of her curls on the other side... Dean leaned into her touch, the only thing he knew anymore. The only thing he knew he had. "It was just a dream, you're not there. Just a dream."

It turned into a mantra while they sat there, until the point that he turned towards her, and it was no longer a matter of Jessica comforting Dean, but a matter of them comforting each other. It was easy to slip into the physical display of affection. A manner of letting her know that he was there, that he would always be there. It was a way for him to let himself know that he would never fail her. He loved her, poured the love that he had for all of his family, biological and adopted, into her.

It was easy. A physical promise that he was there for her, and he would always be there for her.

It – This – This was easy.