In The Beginning. // Sam //

"Move it buddy – you can't sleep here."

Dean opened one eye and then the other groggily, looking around and trying to orient himself. He was on a park bench on some unfamiliar street with a grumpy looking cop staring down at him, and no idea whatsoever how he'd gotten there. "Okay... sleep... where" he mumbled, sitting up, still majorly out of it. "Anywhere but here." The cop gave him a long look and then moved off. Dean rubbed his face with both hands, trying to wake up and take in his surroundings more effectively. There was a diner across the street. Coffee seemed like a good way to kick the remaining fogginess from his brain so that's where he headed. As he walked, he pulled out his cell with the thought of calling Sam, only to discover he had no service. "Great." He stuffed the phone back into his pocket as he pushed through the diner's jangling front door, taking the first seat he found. It was a bar stool next to a young man who was probably around Dean's age, reading a paper and whistling softly to himself.

"Hey, where the hell am I" Dean asked, giving his head a little shake to try and clear it. "Jay Bird's Diner" the man responded cheerfully, folding his paper and placing it down beside him. Dean smiled weakly. "Yeah, thanks. I mean, uh... city and state." "Lawrence, Kansas." "Lawrence" Dean repeated faintly. The young man frowned in concern. "Hey, you okay buddy?" Dean tried to strengthen his smile but it came out as more of a grimace. "Yeah, tough night." The man nodded understandingly and lifted two fingers to signal the man behind the counter. "Hey, uh, coffee here, Reg." As the waiter brought over his coffee, Dean gave him a once over, taking in the 1970s hippie apparel he was decked out in. Accepting his coffee, he couldn't help smirking a little. "Thanks... nice threads. You know Sonny and Cher broke up, right?" He expected the man sitting beside him to appreciate the humor but instead he looked alarmed. "Sonny and Cher broke up?" Dean was just about to rib on both the guy next to him and the waiter for being so behind in the times when he noticed a young couple at a booth in the back corner. Both were sporting 1970s hippie-like attire as well and the man's bushy mustache took up most of his face. Starting to feel very wrong-footed, Dean's eyes jumped around the diner for a few seconds until they landed on the paper the young man next to him had discarded. "“Nixon accepts resignation" broadcasted the headline. And right below it, in smaller but clearly printed font, was the date Monday, April 30, 1973. "Seventy three" Dean mouthed in horrified bafflement just as a voice rang out from the diner's entryway behind him. "Hey, Winchester!" Much to Dean's overwhelming shock, not only did he turn towards the voice, but the man next to him did as well, reaching out one hand to shake that of the elderly gentleman approaching. "Son of a bitch" the old man went on. "How you doing, Corporal?" "Hey, Mr. D." The young man being addressed smiled politely. They released hands but the elderly man stuck around to chat for a minute. "I heard you were back." "Yeah, a little while now" the young man nodded. The old man beamed at him. "Good to have you home, John, damn good." Dean stared openly. Now that he was looking harder, the same strong jawline and dark eyes were apparent. The same striking features he'd seen on his dad's face his whole life, just twenty or so years younger. "Dad" he whispered in astonishment, which was thankfully missed by the two other men who were finishing up their conversation and parting ways. However, John did finally notice Dean's wide-eyed stare and frowned at him curiously. "Do we know each other?" Dean cleared his throat, managing to get himself back under control enough to stop staring like a creeper and say "I guess not." John gave him an odd look and clapped him once on the shoulder while rising in preparation to leave. "Take it easy, pal." Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah."

He gave it another minute before tossing down a ten dollar bill for his untouched coffee and following the path his father had taken moments earlier. It was still relatively early so there weren't too many people on the streets and it wasn't hard to spot John just up ahead, rounding a corner. Dean sped up. However, when he rounded that same corner, instead of finding John, he found Castiel, whom he nearly collided with. "What is this" he asked breathlessly after putting on the breaks, skidding to a halt inches from the stationary angel. "What does it look like" was Castiel's very simple, unhelpful response. Dean took a step back to put some space between them since Castiel didn't seem to be about to do it, nor did he seem skeeved out by their proximity to each other. "Is it real?" "Very" Castiel assured him. Dean furrowed his brow. "Okay, so what? Angels got their hands on some Deloreans? How did I get here?" Castiel tilted his head to one side. "Time is fluid, Dean" he explained quietly. "It's not easy, but we can bend it on occasion." "Well bend it back" Dean snapped, not a fan of being spontaneously deposited in the early 70s, despite getting to see his Dad again. Even if his Dad had no idea who he was. "Or tell me what the hell I'm doing here at the very least" he amended. Castiel didn't so much as bat an eyelid at Dean's tone. "I told you, you have to stop it." This was very unhelpful. "Stop what" Dean demanded, raising an eyebrow. "Is there something nasty after my Dad?" There was a sudden blast of a car horn off in the distance. Dean flicked his eyes sideways and by the time he'd straightened them again Castiel was gone.

Dean exhaled sharply in annoyance. "Oh, come on! What, are you allergic to straight answers, you son of a bitch?!"

So far, he was not a fan of angels.

Dean wandered around the town for a little bit aimlessly, looking for either Castiel or John, the latter of whom he finally found at a used car dealership, conversing with the owner about an ugly-ass VW van that he seemed to be in the process of buying. Dean was horrified. It took him all of two minutes to locate his baby, much shinier and younger, just a few short rows away. Wandering over, he leaned casually against its hood, waited until the owner had left John alone in the parking lot to go inside, and then called out in a casual voice that matched his stance, "That's not the one you want." John raised a skeptical eyebrow, coming around from behind the van to get a good look at who was talking to him. "You following me?" "No, no, I was just passing by" Dean lied with ease, waving one hand dismissively. "I never got to thank you for that cup of coffee this morning. I was a little out of it." John chuckled. "More than a little." "Let me repay the favor." Dean rapped on the Impala's hood with two knuckles, before pushing himself into a standing position. "This is the one you want."

John approached, looking at the car consideringly. "Oh yeah, you – you know something about cars?" "Yeah..." Dean smiled somewhat sadly, lost in his thoughts for a minute before clearing his throat and finishing the sentence. "Yeah, my Dad taught me everything I know. And this – this is a great car." He popped the hood, leaning in. John moved up next to him, also leaning in. "327 four barrel, 275 horses" Dean listed. "A little TLC and this thing is cherry." John nodded wistfully. "You know man, you're right." Dean glanced over one shoulder at the van, making a face. "Then what are you buying that thing for?" John shrugged. "I kinda promised someone I would." Dean couldn't imagine who would hold him to buying a piece of crap car like that van when he could be buying an Impala instead. "Over a '67 Chevy" he scoffed. "I mean, come on, this is the car of a lifetime. Trust me, this thing's still gonna be badass when it's 40." He gave his baby a loving smile.

John considered it for a minute and then grinned broadly and straightened up, holding out one hand. "John Winchester. Thanks." "Dean Van Halen" Dean invented on the spot, obviously not able to use his own last name. "And thank YOU." As John continued to inspect the Impala, Dean threw out off-handedly, "I was in pretty rough shape this morning, huh?" John shook his head and chuckled in agreement. "No kidding." "I've been hung over before but, hey, I was, I was getting chills in that diner" Dean went on, watching for John's reaction. "You didn't feel any of those cold spots, did you?" John was circling the Impala, barely paying attention. "Nope." Ok, so probably no ghosts. Maybe demons? Dean tried again. "I swore I smelled something weird too, you know? Like... like rotten eggs. You didn't happen to smell any sulfur by chance?" Now John was paying more attention. He gave Dean the same kind of odd look he'd given him back at the diner, dragging out his answer a little. "No..." "No" Dean repeated thoughtfully before diving right into his next question, not bothering to be subtle about it. "There been any cattle mutilations in town recently?" John looked disturbed, holding up his hands to ward Dean off. "Okay, mister! Stop it." Dean looked at his feet with half a bitter smile. Those were the same words Castiel had used cryptically. "Yeah, if only I knew what to stop." He lifted his eyes again. "Listen, uh – watch out for yourself okay?" That was really the best he could do other than continue to follow him stealthily, which he planned on doing as well. John nodded slowly, still eyeing Dean warily. "Yeah, sure." Dean nodded in farewell, gave the Impala's roof one last pat and got out of there. Pronto.
~~~

John was easy to follow, especially now that he was driving the Impala. Dean tailed him in a "borrowed" car from the lot to a cozy two story house on the outskirts of town where a young blond woman came running out to meet him. Dean was too far away to hear what was being said but as John picked her up and spun her around in a tight embrace, it wasn't hard for him to guess who he was looking at. "Mom" he whispered, staring in awe. This was just too weird.
~~~

He followed his parents around town for the rest of the evening as they toured the town in John's new car and then stopped for dinner at a local diner. Using extreme stealth, he watched them through a window as they ordered their meal. Mary was looking adoringly at John with a radiant smile full of love. Dean gave an impressed nod and whispered, "Sammy, wherever you are, Mom is a babe." He paused and made a face. "I'm going to hell." Another pause.

"...again."

"Why are you following us?" Dean almost jumped a foot in the air at the sound of Mary's voice behind him suddenly. She'd gotten out of her seat a minute ago but Dean had assumed she was heading for the bathroom. Dean turned to face her, trying to come up with an excuse and she immediately kneed him in the stomach before grabbing him by the shoulders after he'd doubled over from the initial blow, and throwing him sideways into a metal pole. Dean, wincing, straightened up and managed to dodge the next punch with a step sideways. "Are you crazy" he yelped. "You've been trailing us since my house" Mary accused, attempting to punch him again, and again Dean sidestepped it. "I don't know what you're talking about" Dean lied instantly, dodging her third attempts at a punch, straightening, and catching her outstretched arm before it could recoil, spinning her around and pinning her to the side of the restaurant. Mary struggled against Dean's grip. "Let me go!!" Dean's eyes landed on a silver bracelet on Mary's left wrist with dangling charms that looked alarmingly like devil's traps and other protective enchantments. He released her arms like he'd been burnt and took a step back in astonishment. "Are you a hunter??"
~~~

Dean could not get over the fact that his mother had been a hunter when she was growing up. He was still running this fact through his mind an hour and a half later that night when John was dropping Mary back off at her house and driving away after a parting kiss. Dean stepped out of the shadows, approaching Mary. She noticed him immediately and sighed. "Dean, right? Look, I'm not sure you should come in." "You can trust me" Dean insisted. "I mean, come on, we're all hunters here, right? I mean, we're – we're practically family." He kept a straight face outwardly but inwardly chuckled at how much of an understatement that word 'practically' was. Mary hesitated. "Yeah, see...the thing is, my Dad, he's a little, um..." As she searched for the proper word, Dean cut her off with, "Oh, I gotta meet him." Mary looked surprised. "You've heard of him?" Dean considered this. His father had mentioned Mary's parents all of one time, back when Dean was around 15 years old. And it certainly hadn't included the fact that they were hunters. This time he allowed the inner smile to show on the outside as well. "Clearly not enough."
~~~

"So, you're a hunter?" Mary's father, Samuel Campbell, sat at his living room table, cleaning the inside of his shotgun barrel with a rag. He looked up briefly to squint at Dean and then returned his focus to the gun. "Well, tell me something, mister hunter, you kill vampires with wooden stakes or silver?" Dean crossed his arms. "Neither, you cut their heads off." Mary smiled and looked away to hide it from her father. Dean lifted an eyebrow expectantly. "So, did I pass your test?" Samuel gave a curt nod. "Yep. Now get out of my house." "Dad" Mary exclaimed, glaring at him. "I don't trust other hunters, Dean" Samuel announced bluntly. "Don't want their help, don't want them around my family." "Knock it off, Samuel" called his wife from the next room over where she was setting the table for dinner. "He's a hunter" Samuel pointed out. Mary's mother entered the room with an indifferent shrug. "Who passed your little pop quiz, and now I am inviting him to dinner." She turned to Dean. "Are you hungry?" "Starving" Dean admitted, which wasn't really news. He usually was. "Good." She smiled. "I'm Deanna, you've met my husband Samuel, now wash up." As she walked away, Dean turned to Mary. "Samuel and Deanna" he questioned. She nodded. Wow. His parents really hadn't been all that creative on the name front with him and Sam.
~~~

"First time in Lawrence, Dean" Deanna wanted to know as she served him some mashed potatoes. "Well, it's been a while" Dean hedged truthfully. "Things sure have changed... I think." Samuel swallowed a mouthful of meatloaf and leaned back in his chair. "You working a job?" Dean used a fork to push a piece of his own meatloaf around the plate, soaking up sauce, casually. "Yeah, maybe." Samuel frowned. "What's that mean?" "It means I don't trust other hunters either, Samuel" Dean supplied with a wry smile that earned him impressed and entertained grins from both Mary and Deanna. Samuel didn't look half as impressed or entertained but before he could say anything, Mary jumped in with, "Hey, um, so why were you following me and John? You never answered before." "Oh, I, uh, I thought something was after your, um, boyfriend, but um, I don't think that anymore" was Dean's half-truth of a reply. Deanna chuckled. "John Winchester mixing it up with spirits, can you imagine?" Dean could actually very easily imagine that, but obviously kept his mouth shut.

"I saw that" Mary informed her father with narrowed eyes. Samuel tried to look innocent. "What?" "That sour lemon look" Mary clarified, looking upset. Samuel sighed heavily. "Now hold on, John's a really, really nice... naive civilian." He'd clearly been trying to start out on a positive note, but ended with his true feelings. "So what? You'd rather me be with a guy like this?" Mary inclined her head at Dean with a scoff. "What?" Dean looked alarmed at the thought. He waved it off quickly. "No, no. No." Samuel shook his head, ignoring Dean and focusing on Mary. "Mary, of course not, it's just that I –" "That's enough, both of you" Deanna interrupted sternly. "We have company." There was an awkward pause that seemed to stretch on for a long time so Dean finally threw out a question just to break it up. "So what about you, Samuel, you, uh, working a job?" "Might be" was the evasive reply. And it looked like that was going to be that, until Mary, obviously still peeved at her dad over the John comments, piped up with, "He's working a job on the Whitshire Farm." Samuel speared his daughter with an annoyed look and she smiled innocently. Dean frowned pensively. "Whitshire, why does that name sound familiar to me?" Samuel cleared his throat and finally looked away from Mary. "Well, it's been all over the papers. Tom Whitshire. Got tangled up in a combine a few towns over." Obviously that wasn't the reason Dean knew the name as he hadn't read the papers in question but he went with it as a reason for now. "That kind of thing happens" he pointed out, not sure why it was tingling Samuel's hunter senses, until Samuel added, "So why was he on it in the first place when his crops are all dead?" Dean got where he was going with that easily. "Demonic omens?" Samuel nodded gravely. "That's what I gotta find out."

Dean put down his fork with an interested expression. "What about the rest of the town? Did you find anything on the web?" He realized who he was talking to, and more importantly what year he was talking in, and quickly tacked an extra phrase onto the question. "...Of information that you have assembled?" Deanna served herself some more potatoes with a light shrug. "Electrical storms maybe. The weather service graphs should be here on Friday." "By mail??" Dean couldn't help it. The question slipped out incredulously before he could reign it in. Things were so slow here. With the internet, you could just pull up weather charts and graphs in a flash. He had no idea how hunters accomplished anything this way. Samuel gave him an odd look and a highly sarcastic, "No, we hired a jet liner to fly 'em to us overnight." Dean leaned forward in his chair. "It sounds to me like we might be hunting the same thing. You know if we go in there in numbers, we could take care of this real quick." Samuel also leaned forward in his chair. "What part of “we work alone” do you not understand, son?" Dean straightened up. Had Samuel known him better, he would have taken the glint in Dean's eye as a warning sign. But he didn't.
~~~

Early the next morning found Dean at the Whitshire farm, wearing a black suit and white collar, posed as a priest from the local church. He spoke to Tom's widow, Beth, learning what he could about the days leading up to Tom's death. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. And it was as he was preparing to leave around 9am that the sound of a knock on the front door echoed through the large house. Dean led Beth towards the door and opened it himself to find Samuel on the other side, looking...well, to say stunned would probably cover it though it was still a slight understatement...to see Dean already there. But he pulled it together quickly, saying "Father, I see you beat me here" with a strained smile. Dean smiled calmly, though there was a triumphant glint in his eyes now. "The Lord is funny that way." He stepped outside, gesturing between Samuel and Beth for introductions. "Beth Whitshire, this is my associate, our senior, senior priest, Father Chaney." He put a lot of emphasis on the second 'senior' and Samuel was now starting to look like he wanted nothing more than to reach out and clock Dean but had to restrain himself. He held out a fruitcake, obviously trying to keep his expression grieving rather than peeved. "Please accept our deepest condolences on behalf of the county diocese." Beth accepted the gesture and the cake with a watery smile. "Thank you." "Mrs. Whitshire was just telling me all about Tom, and how normal and ordinary things were the day before his death" Dean informed Samuel pointedly. Samuel nodded with a furrowed brow. "I see, so you didn't notice anything unusual at all, ma’am?" "You mean like my husband’s guts fertilizing the back 40" Beth asked waspishly, obviously done with questions. Samuel was stunned into silence, looking awkward and embarrassed. Dean tried to hide his amused smile. "Excuse me." He bowed his head politely at Beth and brushed past Samuel, heading for where Mary and a teenage boy were standing about twenty yards away.

As he approached, Mary gestured to him and asked kindly, "Charlie, would you like to tell the Father here what you just told me?" The teenager, who was apparently named Charlie, let out a long, deep breath and avoided eye contact with both Dean and Mary. "Dad drank sometimes. He got rough with Mom. Hit her, threw her into walls...broke her ribs going on half a dozen times. She'd always make excuses for him though. Said it wasn't his fault. Never wanted me to intervene." "And that's when the stranger came" Mary prompted. Charlie nodded, lowering his eyes finally from the sky to meet Mary's. "At first I just thought he was some Bible thumper, like you all. He showed up about a week ago." Dean frowned curiously. "Saying what?" "Did I want the beatings to stop" Charlie explained, looking pained. "I just thought he was crazy, I didn't think – and the next thing I know, Dad's dead." He wrung out his hands. "Am I going to jail?" "You didn't do this, Charlie" Mary promised gently. "Did the stranger want something in return" Dean wanted to know next. Charlie shook his head, switching his gaze from Mary to Dean. "He didn't want anything." "Come on, Chuck, he wasn't just handing out freebies now, was he" Dean pressed, thinking maybe Charlie was just too embarrassed to admit what he'd asked for. "He did say something about comin' a callin' ten years from now." Charlie shrugged. "Maybe he'd want something then." Dean glanced over at Mary and then back to Charlie, the gears in his brain spinning rapidly. "Something like what?" Charlie threw up his hands in frustration. "I don't know, okay? Look, I told you, he was nuts." Mary took Dean by the arm and led him a few paces away, whispering, "what are you thinking?" "I think he just pimped his soul to a demon and doesn't even know it" Dean returned bluntly.

Mary considered this for a minute and then nodded and moved back in Charlie's direction. "Charlie, do you remember what this stranger looked like?" "Normal looking" was Charlie's indifferent answer. "Think Charlie" Dean demanded. "Anything that stood out? Anything at all?" "Well..." Charlie hesitated. "There was one thing..." He hesitated again. "What" Dean demanded impatiently. Charlie bit his lip. "It's just, the light hit his eyes in a weird way and... for a moment I coulda sworn-" "What" Dean interrupted with an almost bored tone. "That they were black? Or red maybe?" Charlie shook his head slowly. "No, they were yellow. Pale yellow." Dean froze.
~~~

Dean's heart was racing a mile a minute as he burst back through the Campbell's front doors carrying a map, which he slammed down onto the kitchen table. Samuel was trailing him, looking skeptical. "What do you say we just slow down and talk this thing through." Dean didn't lift his eyes from the map. "There's nothing to talk about." "Except you're saying it's a demon, and none of us has ever heard of a demon with yellow eyes" Samuel pointed out. "Yeah, well, I have" Dean countered flatly. "This thing killed my family." Samuel held up his hands like a traffic cop. "Just calm down, son." "You don't get it, do you?" Dean finally lifted his eyes, his tone rushed and urgent. "You are in danger, we are all in danger. In fact, you need to get yourself someplace safe." "Not until we know what we're dealing with here" Samuel refused stubbornly. Deanna entered the room carrying a bowl of fruit salad. She smiled patiently at Dean. "Sam's right, Dean, it could be a demon, it could be a shapeshifter, it could be any number of things." "I know what this thing is" Dean barked. "And I'm gonna kill it." He set his jaw. "That's all the talking I need to do." "You're gonna kill a demon" Samuel snorted. "How?" Ruby's knife was still back in his own year as he hadn't had it on his person when Cas zapped him to the 70s, but fortunately he had a backup plan brewing in his mind. "There's a hunter named Daniel Elkins" he explained. "He lives in Colorado, and he has Colt's gun. The Colt." "Yeah, I heard about the Colt." Samuel's lips twitched with a derisive smile. "Used to tell it to Mary as a bedtime story." "Well it's real" Dean fired back.

Samuel and Deanna exchanged baffled looks. They clearly had no idea what to think or say. Finally, Samuel addressed Dean once more. "Alright, say that it is. You got some kind of crystal ball telling you where this demon's gonna be?" Dean was ready for that question too. "Yeah, maybe I do." He reached into an inner jacket pocket and pulled out his Dad's journal, which he flipped open to a page near the front and dropped down onto the middle of the table. Samuel leaned closer. "What's this?" "It's a list" Dean explained, pointing with a flourish. "My Dad wrote down anyone he thought ever came in contact with the Yellow Eyed Demon: who, where and when." Samuel frowned again. "Why?" Dean swallowed hard. "‘Cause the more he could learn about the son of a bitch, the more he could figure out why it killed my Mom." Dean continued scanning the list avidly. "Look, Whitshire Farm. I told you that name sounded familiar." Samuel's bafflement increased. "Whitshire Farms was two days ago. How the hell is that on your Dad's list?" Dean's eyes widened marginally. "Uh... my Dad could see the future" he invented quickly before pointing again at the list. "Look at this, it says he's gonna hit here tomorrow night." Samuel squinted at the page where Dean's finger was resting. "Liddy Walsh?" "Haleyville, that's close" Dean mused. "I mean, yeah, it's about three miles, but..." Samuel trailed off, glancing at his wife. They both looked pretty freaked. Dean could see plain as day on their faces that they didn't believe a word coming out of his mouth. He smiled ruefully. "I know you guys think I'm crazy." Samuel didn't bother to deny this. "You seem like a really nice kid, Dean, but yeah, you're crazy." "Yeah, maybe." Dean shrugged with mild indifference. "But I know where this bastard's gonna be, and I'm gonna stop it." He slammed his dad's journal closed.

"Once and for all."