Out Of Town Guest: D.W

Prologue

November, 2nd, 1983:  Alexandra Marie Jones sat on her bed waiting for the time to stop. All her little ears could hear was the sound of harsh words cutting through the living room carpet.

"You bitch!" Her father slurred, beyond comprehension. "I work all this overtime for you to what?! Spend it on yourself! That money was for our kids!"

All Lexie wanted to do was cry. And cry for hours or until her head hit the pillow. Her big brother Forsythe was away at basketball tryouts when the commotion conquered the trailer walls. 

"Forsythe! I've been slaying around this trailer like a mad woman who works 9 to 5 for you and our kids! No! I didn't take our money for myself! It goes to bills, Forsythe!" Lexie heard a crack and then screams.

She was too afraid to move. Her body pulsed like no tomorrow. She knew what was happening. Her father used her mother has a punching bag again. Just like last Sunday or the Tuesday before.

"Fuck off, Lana!" She heard her father snarl as she forced her ears closed.

More cries, glass shattering and the strong harsh winds from her mother's bones cracking. It wasn't always this way. Times were happier than this. Her father was a kind sweet soul... that was before he lost his job and joined a gang.

"Please!" Her mother begged," Please, stop, I'll doing anything you want!" She screamed louder as Lexie's ears burned from the intense screech in her mother's voice.

Nothing worked. No begging or pleading stopped his wrath. Last time Lexie or her brother tried to intervene. They both spent two weeks begging senselessly for their father to stop. Still no mercy or tears would save their little souls.  A week before FP, Her older brother got smacked around and shoved to the floor. His nose was busted and the next day at school, Lexie witnessed him lying to his best friend, Fred Andrews.

By the next morning, Lexie was jerked awake by a soft hand. She hoped that it was her brother or even her mother. "Lex..." She squinted her tired eyes." What happened last night?" She looked up and saw her big brother.

She immediately latched onto her brother's waist and cried her lungs out. Her brother's hands were soon soothing her back and his soft hushes only made the tears throb from her eyes even more.

"Daddy..." She sobbed." H-h-He hurt m-m-mommy!" FP's eyes sweep the little girl's eyes and felt his heart torn to pieces.

"Shh, It will okay." He knew he was lying. The beatings weren't going to stop. The house wouldn't stop smelling like cheap booze and the screams would linger for hours. "It will be all over soon..." Another lie slipped off his lips.

Lexie knew too. She wasn't as blind as they thought. She knew that what her father did to them wasn't okay. The beatings, broken arms and the useless excuses he would use the next day when he was sober or at least functional. 

A couple weeks later... Her mama leaves. Tears rolled down the Jones children as they saw their mother hastily packed her belongings into a suitcase. Her tearful eyes wandering their faces as she snapped the case closed.

"I'm sorry, babies." Her mother's voice cracked, her reddened eyes squinted to keep the tears in check. "I need to go... He'll kill me if I stay. I wish I could stay for you guys but I- I can't..." She could see through her blurred view that her brother was fighting his tears. 

"But Mama Please—"

"I can't, Lexie-bell. It's not safe. He almost killed me last night. He had a knife to my neck, Baby girl." The terror in her mama's cracked voice made her stomach churn with sickness.

She looked down at her two children." I'll never forget you. You'll always be in my heart. I'll be back for you two as soon as I can..." And, Lana Jones went off and then leaned forward to kiss her two children's cheeks. "I love you." The door shut tightly behind the fair-brown haired woman.

And Lexie knew that her mother was never coming back. Her brother cupped her sides of her face in his hands as tears rolled down her cheeks. The beatings were worse than ever that night.

That night Lexie went to bed with two black eyes and a blooded lip. But her brother intervened and took a lot more broken bones than she did. "Mama" She whimpered as she suffocated her face with the pillow to keep from getting caught. The last thing she needed was another reason to cry.

-AAAAAA-AAA
Little did they know.... They shared the same horrid night. Could this bring them together?

November, 2nd, 1983: Dean awoke to the smell of a stiff smoke sneaking into his little nose. He snuck out of bed and saw the worst thing you can ever imagine at four-years old. He couldn't get his feet to move. When he saw his mom burning alive, yelling run Dean on the ceiling. Flames shooting around her.

"Dean get Sammy!" His father roared, terror in his eyes and voice.

Dean's feet unglued from the wooden planks and raced outside for safety. He didn't know what was going on. He was only four years old and this was more than his little brain could handle.

As he stared at the burning house... He could still hear the screams of his mother and the true fear in her eyes as she was burned alive. Before he knew it... he was swept off his feet and into his father's strong arms.

He took one last rushed glance at his childhood home and tears drenched his cheek. His mama was gone and he didn't know why. His dad held him and his six-month old brother, Sammy in his arms.

Soon All he knew was that his mama was dead and that he was soon training to be a hunter— to find—no kill what murdered his mom.

He wished his mom was still alive. He missed his crusts being cut off his sandwiches. His father didn't cut them right—not like his mama—or like how his mama used. That thought still didn't settled well when he was Six-years old.

His father began drinking two-months after Mary, his mom died. At first it was a beer or two. Then it accumulated into several a week. His father spent a lot of his time getting them ready to kill this demon (they later found out killed his mom) and didn't really prepare for all things.

All Dean wanted was to have a normal childhood. No hunting Demons, witches or shapeshifters. Just a normal life like the kids he went to school with. His dad never laid a hand on him or Sam. But he would yell a lot.