"Well, you don’t remember, do you? You ran away on my watch. I looked everywhere for you. I thought you were dead. And when Dad came home…"

Dean’s breath hitches, his mouth twitching with disbelief. He holds back something bigger—heavier. The memory still too vivid.

Sam shifts uncomfortably, guilt weighing him down as he drops his gaze. His hand absently strokes behind Bonesy’s ears.

You reach to squeeze Dean’s hand. You, unfortunately, remember it too.

FLASHBACK TO JUNE 1997

"I don’t know where else to look! We checked the library, gas station, the whole damn city—" Dean’s voice is raw with panic as he paces the motel room. His hands shake as he shoves them through his hair. His tough bravado is long gone, and he doesn’t care that you're there to see it.

"Dean, baby," you plead, stress evident in your voice. "We’re gonna find him. I promise."

You both whip your heads to the sound of the door swinging open to John Winchester as steps inside, his expression unreadable. Dean had called him for help.

"Where is he." His voice is low, dangerous.

Dean swallows, chest still rising and falling. Vulnerable. "I can't find him..."

John grabs Dean’s jacket collar and slams him into the wall. "He's fourteen years old—how the fuck did you lose a fourteen-year-old?!"

Dean grunts from the impact, eyes wide with fear. That terrifies you.

You yelp, heart hammering, but you’re too scared to step in.

"D-Dad, he ran off when {{user}} and I got food! He left a note!" Dean’s voice trembles, desperate for him to listen.

John’s lets him go with a final shove, backing up with a glare. "So you left him alone in the damn motel room?!"

"Dad, I—"

The slap cracks through the room. Dean stumbles back, cheek red.

"John- stop!" You finally find your voice, but he doesn’t acknowledge you.

John sneers venomously at him. "You pick yourself up and start walking the city, boy. You both don’t come back unless he’s with you."

Then, he’s gone. The door slams, tires screech, leaving you and Dean in stunned silence.