Baelfire's Brother

Chapter One

The '67 Impala roared down the highway, raindrops beading up and rolling off the sleek black exterior. Dean Winchester, as he was often called, was at this moment running away from his problems. Sure, he had just killed the final Knight of Hell who had been plaguing him and his friends for months, but that didn't mean he was done. Of course, some manipulative dirtbag angel — who happened to be named Metatron; what the hell kind of a name was that? — had to still be up and kicking. No matter. Dean deserved a break. He'd had enough of dealing with Heaven and Hell's crap for the time being.

Absentmindedly, he scratched at his face, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. He still had droplets of blood splattered on his aspect from Abaddon's vessel. Grumbling something about 'damned formalities', the hunter reached past the ancient jawbone on the seat and snatched a handkerchief from the glove compartment before slamming it shut. He rubbed the blood off, not minding the caked up scabby-bits that fell into his lap, until there was no trace on his face. At least, none that he could see in the rear-view mirror. He didn't even bother trying to clean it off his hands or the bone. There was no way it would all get off. And, if worst came to worst and he had to talk to people, he could just stuff his hands in his pockets and the jawbone in his belt.

With a sigh, he shuffled through the box of cassette tapes sitting under the radio, and shoved the one labeled Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx into the tape deck. The familiar snare-and-guitar beat of Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song bellowed through the car, and he tapped his fingers on the wheel in time. To be honest, he had no idea where he was going, just that he was going. He had to get away; it was becoming clear that he couldn't keep burning the candle at both ends. If he kept at it like this, it wouldn't be long before he snapped at Cas or Sam or, hell, even Crowley. If someone had told the Hunter a few years ago that he would be bearing the Mark of Cain and running around without little Sammy, he would have told them to screw off. Yet here he was. Speeding down an unfamiliar road, with nobody in the passenger seat, and that brand-like mark on his arm giving him an itch to gut something, even though he didn't have anything to be particularly mad at at the moment.

As he was musing, the sun caught his eye, reflecting off the sign he passed and drawing his eyes to it. The sun was directly overhead, highlighting the chipped painted sign that spelled out, Welcome to Storybrooke! "Storybrooke?" The Hunter scoffed. "Well that's flamboyant." The town seemed quiet enough. From what he could tell with the way people seemed to walk on the street and engage with others, these people seemed to feel very safe and comfortable around each other. It looked to be your average 'We look out for our own' kind of small town, couldn't be more than four-thousand citizens. Brrrreauuuughhhh. His growling stomach pulled him out of his thoughts, and he parked near a building advertising Granny's Diner, grumbling to himself, "Yeah, yeah." Pulling the key out of the ignition caused the music to cut off, but that wasn't important. He leafed through his wallet and found enough cash from his most recent poker hustle to get a burger and still have some left over. So, after stuffing his gun and the jawbone into his waistband behind his back, he threw on his jacket and stepped out of the Impala.

The door of the diner was left open to let some of the noontime air in, and the moment he stepped foot inside, all eyes were on him. If it were an old western movie, music would've abruptly cut off and the floor he was standing on would have squeaked. The Hunter did his best to ignore it, and many of the patrons went back to their food and conversations, pretending he wasn't there. He sat at an empty table in the center of the diner and an older-looking lady wearing glasses stepped up in front of him.

"Welcome to Granny's Diner," she said, an air of suspicion in her voice. "I'm Granny. You know what you want, or can I get you a menu?"

"Yeah, uh, you got burgers here?" She nodded, so he continued, "Okay, then I'll take a burger with extra onions, and a black coffee, please."