A/N: Today is the 9th anniversary of 9/11, as you all know. I once tried to do a tribute to the atrocity, but I wasn't exactly a very skilled writer all those years ago. I have decided to try again, and put all my other stories and idea's on the backburner for a couple of days. This story will be composed of several different points of view of characters. Every year, I watch a 9/11 documentary and am plagued by one specific question (followed by many others); Where were you on 9/11?
Also, these are Dean's thoughts. Not organized, nice writing. Bare that in mind.
Timeline Note: Sam is at Stanford, just starting his freshman year.
Part 1, Dean
September 11, 2001
He stood in the street, gaping at the television through the window. He couldn't look away, because it wasn't real, right? It wasn't real, it wasn't really fucking happening. Because how could it happen? He knew people were clueless about supernatural beings, but shouldn't they be able to stop their own fucking kind?
Because this is pandemonium at the highest fucking level.
For the first time in his life, Dean had no idea what to do. There was nothing in his father's journal to aid him against this. This couldn't be solved with a simple salt and burn, or a couple rounds of silver bullets to the heart. Because these were people, just fucking people. And people were fucking insane.
With that thought in mind, he made a beeline for Palo Alto, California. He'd leave his dad a text to tell him he had to take a detour. He had to check on Sammy, first. With these crazy ass bastards flying around, he needed to know his baby brother was safe.