Happy New Year everyone!

This installment of Dean!whump is inspired by an entry in "John Winchester's Journal" by Alex Irvine. "January 1: Y2K didn't end the world. New Year's Eve almost did Dean in, though. He's upstairs, immobile. I don't feel good myself." OK, so John probably implied that they both got wasted but the Dean!whump addict in me chose to interpret it differently. This has nothing else to do with the "Journal", and the creature is totally made up by me but it'll be obvious I think where inspiration for that came from. Updates for "Snowblind" and "Fall On Your Knees" are on the way and this three shot will be updated shortly, I know I might be in over my head with WIP's but I just really wanted to post this on New Year's. Don't worry, it's all written in my head. "Little Boy Lost" should also be updated soon too. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed my stuff. My New Year's Resolution is to conclude my WIP's no matter what my ADD afflicted muse says.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Supernatural" because even though I was a very good girl last year all those letters I sent to Santa asking for Sam and Dean for Christmas went unanswered because apparently Santa's not real. Who knew?

Enjoy!

"Dad."

John turned his head to glance briefly at his eldest. Dean's eyes were wide and sincere as he looked at him and John quickly gritted his teeth and looked away, focusing his attention on the alley below, lifting a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

"Dean, pay attention."

Nodding Dean took watch once again from their place on the fire escape of the old downtown building, keeping watch on the rooftops above them. "Yes sir. Just…"

"What?" John demanded tersely.

"Just don't let Sam get to you."

"What makes you think that I'm bothered by his unwillingness to participate in this hunt?"

"I can hear your teeth grinding even over the crowd. I know it pissed you off that he didn't want to come tonight, but… cut him some slack. It's the millennium; can you blame him for wanting to spend it with his friends instead of in this dark alley looking for Batboy?"

"I didn't realize you're taking his side on this."

"I'm not. I'm not going to take sides. Dad you told me always to keep my head in the game and Sam's got you so pissed that…" Dean took a deep breath, knowing it would be a big risk to continue, "I can tell you're distracted."

"You're walking on thin ice, son," John warned, a little ticked because Dean was right, his eyes might've been watching the alley, but his mind was back at their latest temporary home, replaying the fight he and Sam had. But he wasn't going to admit that.

Dean spared him a sharp glance before looking back at the rooftops for their prey and John scanned below. What Dean nicknamed 'Batboy' because of the recurring tabloid urban legend, was a humanoid creature with bat-like features. Indeed, "World Weekly News" had a contest for whoever could provide a photo of the famous 'Batboy', all grown up but luckily no one really believed in its existence except for hunters and the few people who saw it and lived to tell about it. It was freaky and demonic looking, dark furry human-like body with bat wings on its back, large bat-like ears and a vaguely human face with long sharp fangs protruding from its mouth.

It was a moderately challenging hunt but a relatively simple kill. Just about anything that could kill a person could kill it. The problem was that it was also an incredibly stealthy creature that could fly and it was also quite fast with razor sharp claws. It was paramount to watch all angles because it could easily turn the tables between hunter and prey and the hunter could easily become the hunted.

"He should be here watching our backs," John added after a few moments of relative silence, "That's far more important than huddling out in the cold singing 'Auld Lang Syne' just because the clock struck twelve."

Dean sighed, his lips quirking into a small, almost imperceptible grin as John inadvertently proved Dean's point. "Yeah, but it's important to Sam to hang out with his friends. And besides, the clock going from 1999 to 2000 is a pretty big deal, don't you think?"

"Only if you're one of those idiots who seem to think Y2K is the end of the world," John grunted with a huff, leaning forward when movement near a manhole further down the alley caught his attention.

Dean snorted, finding the whole Y2K hysteria hilarious, but then sobered when he sensed a change of tension in his father, "Dad? You see something?"

"Maybe," John whispered, putting the binoculars to his eyes again to get a better look. A beat later he growled, shaking his head, "It's nothing. Just some homeless guy digging through the trash," he said when the movement revealed just that.

Dean sighed, "I don't think that we're going to get this thing tonight anyway. It's New Year's Eve. I think the crowd scared it off."

"Maybe," John muttered, "but it might see the crowd as an all you can eat buffet."

"Yeah but all evidence seems to point that Batboy's a reclusive creature and don't you think it's odd that it'd end up in a city in the first place? I thought they preferred quiet rural areas."

"Yes, generally they do," John conceded, "this one does stray from the pattern but there are different factors that could've driven this one to the heart of the city."

"Such as?"

"Does it matter?"

"Kind of. I mean, what if it isn't Batboy we're looking for?"

"The descriptions in the eyewitness reports are uncanny," John retorted, irritation obvious in his voice, "Plus everything else about it fits the M.O."

"I guess," Dean sighed as he continued to scan the rooftops and John watched below.

"You really are asking for it tonight, aren't you?" John asked, his tone with a hint of warning. Dean bit his lip, knowing he was crossing a line by questioning his father. Add that to the fact he had just stood up for his little brother while the two of them were having another one of their many quarrels and Dean knew that he was almost at strike three.

"Sorry sir," Dean said honestly, "just seems odd."

"Well what do you think it could be if it isn't Batboy?" John demanded, scanning the dark, empty alley.

"Don't know sir," Dean replied.

"Then until you come up with something useful to argue your point, keep your mouth shut and don't second guess me," John stated, "certainly not in the middle of a damn stakeout."

"I wasn't trying to…"

"Dean."

"Right. Sorry sir."

They continued their watch in silence. A few blocks away they could hear the crowd in the heart of downtown laughing and cheering as the clock edged nearer to midnight. It was a mild winter's night and they could hear pop music playing loudly in the background and Dean subconsciously bobbed his head to the beat even though he wasn't familiar with or even a fan of the style. The steady rhythm served to clear his head enough to concentrate on the task at hand and a growing sense of uneasiness seeped through him.

His instincts were telling him that they missed something, that something was off about this hunt but he couldn't put his finger on it. Since John was clearly still pissed about Sam ditching the hunt for his friends and closed off to anything Dean had to say, he wasn't sure how to bring it up without making it worse. Not unless Dean had a good reason to doubt that they were hunting Batboy.

But truth be told, Dean didn't really doubt it at all, but he just had a bad feeling. The feeling had settled deep in his gut and was really nagging at him to figure out why.

"Dad?"

"What?"

Dean flinched at John's sharp tone but he held his ground, "Are we missing something?"

"Yeah, Sam."

"That's not what I meant, Dad," Dean hissed with a frown.

"Don't use that tone with me, Dean!"

"Right, sorry," Dean amended, but there was some sarcasm in there that he just couldn't hide. "But what if we're missing something? I just can't help but feel like there's something we might've forgotten or overlooked!"

"Look, we've all done our research and all came to the same conclusion…"

"Sam didn't."

"Sam's not here," John snapped.

Dean bit his lip and frowned as he continued to scan the rooftops wondering why he was pushing this, knowing it was only making John angrier. They needed their head in the game and with John so pissed at Sam, and Dean pushing his father's buttons they way he was, neither of them were really focused on the hunt.

"Besides, he did eventually come to agree with us," John added.

Only because he couldn't think of anything else, Dean thought, but chose not to say out loud. Maybe that was why he was doubting things, because Sam did too at first. But almost everything they had found pointed to the same thing. Batboy, stalking the city in this part of town, around this alley.

"I know," Dean sighed.

John spared Dean a wry glance, "Believe it or not, I know what I'm doing. I've done this whole hunting thing before."

There was a silent apology amidst the sarcasm in his father's voice and Dean chuckled, accepting the olive branch, "Touché." Now wasn't the time to argue about Sam or anything for that matter. Right now they needed to focus.

He went back to keeping watch above them, still feeling on edge. Maybe it was the distracting noise from the crowd just a few blocks away. The danger they had no idea they could be in if they wandered away from the safety of their large numbers, the danger they were in of being caught with guns on some fire escape in some alley, looking ready to randomly shoot someone. Maybe it was the fight John and Sam had earlier, the way Sam defied their father and just stormed off to party with his friends. A third set of eyes would've been nice and the three of them getting along would've been even better.

He could feel his father tense beside him, "Shit," John hissed.

"What?" Dean asked, following his line of sight, darting his eyes up briefly when something caught his eye but there was nothing there. He scanned the darkness where John was focused.

"It got the homeless guy!"

Dean spotted the lump on the ground that was once the homeless man. He was obviously dead, blood pooling under him, his torso slashed.

"Damn it!" John hissed, "How the hell did it…?" he turned accusingly to Dean, "You let this happen! Don't you dare second guess me again, you hear me? If you hadn't…we coulda got this thing before…damn it, just wait here!"

"Dad!"

John brushed him off and ran down the fire escape, jumping the final distance when he reached the bottom, Dean swallowed the lump of guilt that built in his throat and watched John race towards the homeless guy's body, weapon in hand, angrily searching for the creature.

"Come on fucker, show yourself!" John growled.

The crowd grew louder and Dean tensed, realizing that it was almost midnight. He ignored the noise and focused on his father. He had screwed up, but he was going to make up for it by having his father's back. He always had his father's back.

John frantically scanned the alley from where he was on the ground, obviously furious for letting the creature kill right in front of them and not even noticing. Batboy was known for stealth, so distracted or not they could've still missed it, but for a hunter it was always a harsh blow when someone got killed on their watch.

A dark shape emerged from behind a dumpster, behind John.

"Dad!" Dean shouted in warning, but the growing noise and fervour of the crowd drowned him out and John's reaction was a fraction too slow as the creature attacked. Bat-like wings flapping, it emerged from the shadows and knocked John to the ground, knocking the gun from his hand as he crashed into a dumpster before falling still. The creature raised its claws to strike a fatal blow but with two shots from Dean, it was down before it knew what hit it.

Dean breathed deeply. Batboy was dead. Another hunt finished, another year over. "Dad? You OK?" he shouted, sighing in relief when John staggered to his feet, seemingly all right but obviously pissed.

"I'm good," he could hear John yell in reply as he looked around in the darkness for his gun, rubbing his elbow which took the brunt of his fall.

John growled in frustration when it was no where to be found, his head hurt from where he banged it when he landed, his elbow hurt and the noise from the crowd was pissing him off. His whole arm was shaking, his fingers tingling but he knew the injury wasn't too bad, just bruised but it was his funny bone so it hurt like hell. He looked at the creature, the grotesque, human-like features drawing his head back in mild surprise.

"Huh," he grunted, realizing it was a female from the slightly effeminate facial features, her wings crumpled to the side, her belly swollen... "I'll be damned." She had been pregnant. Maybe that was why she broke the pattern, coming to the city where there were more people for the picking. She was eating for two. That also explained why there were more victims than usual, which was one of the other factors that had Sam originally doubt that it was Batboy…or in this case, Batgirl.

He looked up towards Dean to give him a wave of thanks for saving his ass as the crowd in the background starting whooping and cheering as midnight drew nearer. But a dark shadow gliding up above caught his attention. Shit! That must be the daddy.

Forgetting all about stealth and screeching suddenly with rage, a second creature swooped from its perch above them, heading straight for the person who killed its mate: Dean.

In the background, the countdown to the new millennium began.

Ten!

"Dean!" John called out, feeling impotent and helpless without his gun. In panic he desperately searched for it, his attention divided between finding his gun and reaching his boy.

Nine!

Dean looked up and hastily drew his weapon, cursing to himself because he let his guard down. Batboy swooped down at him, attacking as he fired.

Eight!

The creature gave an inhuman cry of pain as it took a swipe at Dean while John watched in horror.

Seven!

Dean hollered out in agony, Batboy's claws tearing through his jacket to cut deep into his flesh. The force threw him off balance and he rolled down the stairs…

Six!

…coming to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the fire escape, head and arms dangling limply over the edge. Blood dripped through the grill and splattered to the pavement, forming a small pool.

Five!

John looked frantically for his gun now, the faint streetlight at the end of the alley catching on the metal where it sat in a pile of trash. Meanwhile the creature leapt down the two flights in pursuit of Dean.

Four!

The creature reached Dean as he dazedly started to come to and with its monstrous clawed foot it kicked him, sending his body to fall over the edge just as John reached his gun.

Three!

"NO!" John screamed watching in horror as Dean fell seemingly headfirst the ten feet to the ground, the creature close behind.

Two!

John took aim at the creature looming furiously over Dean's prone form raising its claws to strike and fired even as he ran towards them. With a screech, the creature fell back, dead.

One!

Sliding to the ground next to Dean he grasped the collar of Dean's torn and bloody jacket, wanting to shake him awake but stopped when his brain screamed warnings of possible neck injuries so he cupped his palm to Dean's cheek with one hand and felt for a pulse with the other. It was rapid and weak, but there. However John didn't allow himself even a moment to feel relieved.

Happy New Year!

Dean's pale face glowed green, then blue, then red, white, then purple and green as fireworks lit up the sky, brightly announcing the New Year. His eyes fluttered, his brow furrowed in pain. John tore off his jacket and pressed it against Dean's bleeding chest, causing Dean's legs to jerk spastically, his body tensing in anguish.

A low moan escaped his throat and his eyes fluttered open, rolling back shakily as his body bucked, muscles strained, his back arching in agony, the moan turning into a strangled cry. "Dean! Hey, hey look at me! Be still, be still," John ordered, leaned closer, seeking his gaze as he took his cheek into his palm again. Dazed green eyes reflected the bursts of fireworks as they wandered in search of his father. "Take it easy, son."

In the background John could hear the crowd singing "Auld Lang Syne" while Dean's faint, keening wails provided a morbid and heartbreaking accompaniment. Tears spilled from both their eyes as Dean's unfocused gaze rested on John's face briefly before his eyes rolled and fluttered, body tensing, as he cried out pitifully in pain before his body went slack.

"No, Dean," John gently slapped his cheek but elicited no response. "Stay with me, son, open your eyes!"

John pressed his cold fingers, smeared in Dean's blood against his firstborn's neck to check his pulse again.

"Dean! Wake up!"

Meanwhile the nearby crowd continued to sing and cheer, loudly bringing in the new millennium, their boisterous celebration drowning out John's desperate pleas.

A/N Don't worry Sam fans, he'll be featured more prominently from here on out.

Thanks for reading! Now please review!

Happy New Year!