What will be will be
None of the characters who are recognisable belong to me in this story. I am merely using them for my own entertainment purposes.
So here's another fresh offering for you.
This was originally part of a larger first chapter but I've found while I was reediting and polishing it up that it was beginning to get ridiculous in size so I've cut it down, splitting it into the prologue and into chapter one.
Anyway please enjoy!
A/U – Dean has always been certain of his life and destiny. He was a Hunter, nothing more and nothing less, but when destiny intervenes, Dean finds himself forced into a new role in life. A father to two small abandoned children. In over his head, Dean has to find a way to balance his old life with his new life. Easy right? Well not if your name is Dean Winchester.
All he could think about was that it should have happened to Sam…
Castiel / Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester / OFC
None in this prologue
It should have been Sam
Dean Winchester liked to think he was a simply man when push came to shove. As long as he as clothed, fed and still had all his body parts intact then he was generally happy in life. He could ignore the fact that every supernatural creature in the world appeared to have him on their number one hit list; he could ignore the fact that his brother nagged him daily over every possible topic available. He could ignore the shitty conditions they lived in, the injuries he obtained almost daily, and the fact that his best friend was an Angel who had the emotional maturity level of a two year old. Hell he could even ignore the fact that sometimes when he allowed himself to think about his life, he actually realised how pathetic it really was.
Dean was the champion at ignoring things and just carrying on regardless of how he might have felt about things.
This was something that he couldn't ignore. Hell this was something which he had never even considered happening to him in his life time and Dean had spent a lot of time thinking about what could happen to him.
If this was going to happen to anyone in their barely functioning family then it should have been Sam. Not Dean.
Sam was the Winchester brother who actively sought out the norm, clinging desperately to the idea that he could be normal and stubbornly refusing to let go of it. Dean had accepted his fate as a freak when he had been four years old and told to protect his brother from everything which might harm him. It had been his Dad who had said those words to him, repeating it daily. Sometimes he would elaborate on the point, telling Dean that he was to use anything in his disposal to do it. Knives, a gun, even his fists. Anything which could be used to protect the youngest and yet Dean couldn't remember a time when his father had worried about Dean being protected and safe. It had always been about Sam when they were growing up.
Dean should have resented his brother while they were growing up but instead the opposite had happened and he had protected and loved Sam with an intensity which should have been frightening in a child so young and yet he knew no different. Dean would do whatever it took to make his brother happy. If Sam wanted to believe that he could have a normal life away from hunting and everything to do with it then Dean was happy to pick up the slack to allow that to happen.
He had always known that Sam was their father's favourite, Dean had merely been the bodyguard used to keep Sam safe when John was unable to be there. Dean had been a good solider who could listen to orders and obey them without constantly asking for the reasons behind the commands. Sam had been different, always challenging John and arguing with him and yet he was never punished, if it had been Dean to answer back the way Sam had then Dean would have gotten beaten to an inch of his life. No matter how hard Dean tried to win their father's approval he never succeeded and now that theor father was dead he never would.
Dean was determined not to allow anyone to get close to him again. If he allowed them through his defences then it would simply lead to pain since they would have the power to hurt him. Dean wouldn't allow anyone to have that level of power and control over him again.
There had been more times then he cared to remember when he had wished that things could have been different for him. He would look at Sam and wish that he had been given the same opportunity to go to University to study and learn instead of being made to stay behind. He wished that he could have had friends who would contact him because they simply wanted to talk or they fancied meeting him for a beer and not because something supernatural had occurred which they needed him to sort out. He wished he could have a family of his own who he could take care of, he would look at the houses they passed when they were in the impala and wished with every fibre of his being that one of them belonged to him and that he had a home of his own he could live in.
But he would simply push the thought away when it reared its head at him the same way he refused to acknowledge any thought which might have bordered lined pitying.
Dean was a Hunter and a home and a family didn't go with that job description.
Suddenly finding him self responsible for two small children who were relying on him to protect them was never meant to be part of the grand Dean Winchester master plan of life no matter how much he might think of it when he was alone. It was simply a random thought he had, the same way he would often think of pie and what his favourite flavour was.
It wasn't actually meant to happen.
He wasn't meant to get close to anyone, the minute people did they left him, either through their own choice because they had reached the decision that Dean was too emotionally scarred for them to deal with or because something had killed them trying to get to Dean.
Dean was simply bad luck in his eyes.
It would have been better for everyone involved if he had never found the pair of them. It would have been better for everyone if it had been Sam in that alley. That was a scenario which made plenty of sense.
He should have left them where he had found them; they would have remained there hidden from view until someone else found them. Someone who didn't have a massive mark over their head and a line of demons stretching back as far as the eyes could see wanting to gut him.
And yet here he was, a small baby held securely in the crook of his left arm, a second small figure pushed tightly against his side, face buried into Dean's stomach, whimpering quietly through a mixture of fear and exhaustion as two small hands clutched at Dean's dirty plaid shirt. The colt held tightly in Dean's free hand, pointing directly at the advancing hoard as he wondered for the hundredth time in the space of thirty minutes how exactly he had managed to get him self into this situation in the first place.
Thanks for reading
Next chapter on the way tonight or first thing tomorrow morning…