Title: That Which Was Lost...[1/?]
Author: alakewood
Warnings: AU; semi-graphic violence. Spoilers for Pilot and Dream a Little Dream of Me.
Word count: 2800
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After John Winchester's wife is murdered, he goes in search of the thing responsible. His search leads him to Bill Harvelle and Bobby Singer. Dean goes to live with Bobby's wife while Sam stays with Bill's wife, Ellen. Most of this story you probably already know. This is just a twist on events, one that shows how one little difference can change the outcome of everything.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
oxoxo
December 1983
It was a week past Thanksgiving when John Winchester crossed the Nebraska border, his two young boys asleep in the backseat of his Impala. It had been one month since Mary, his wife, had been murdered in Sammy's nursery. Screaming and flames, and he couldn't explain it, what he saw.
One month of tireless searching and all he had was a single lead. Barely a lead. Just a guy that said he knew somebody who knew somebody whose wife was killed in "just about nearly the same matter." Last the guy knew, his friend's friend had headed for some roadhouse in Nebraska – apparently there were folks out there that dealt with "that weird, crazy, supernatural shit."
The roadhouse was just off a highway, just off I-80; a lonely building with brightly lit windows. Something about seeing it there – in that specific place with nothing else for miles – made John feel hope for the first time since he lost Mary.
The Impala protested only slightly as he turned down the snow-drifted drive and into the last snow-free space outside the roadhouse. Dean, his eldest son, stirred in the backseat.
"Where are we, Daddy?" he questioned with a yawn.
John reached behind him, ruffled Dean's hair. "Nebraska. I'm gonna run in here quick, okay? I'm gonna see if somebody can help me. Then we'll go find a nice motel, all right, dude?"
Dean's eyes were half-close, a small smile on his face, still lost in the warmth of sleep. Deep breath, deep sigh, "'Kay, Daddy."
"I'll leave the car on, but make sure Sammy doesn't get cold, okay? You know how he likes to kick the blanket off."
"'Kay, Daddy." Dean reached an arm over Sammy's legs, keeping them and the blanket and Sam's legs still. "I'll take care of Sammy."
"That's a good boy."
oxo
When John entered the roadhouse, all conversation died down as the few patrons there – the die-hard regulars, John had to presume, based on the foot or so of snow outside and the roadhouse's remote location – turned their focus toward him. John smiled good-naturedly, nodding at them as he passed, heading towards the bar where a weary looking woman stood drying beer mugs with a white towel. She eyed him subtly. "Can I help you?"
"I hope so." John ran a hand over his face. "I'm looking for somebody." And that wasn't vague at all. "Um, somebody that knows about...things."
The woman cast a quick glance over John's shoulder. "What kinds of things?"
"The weird kind, ma'am. Look, I don't know how to ask this. I'm not ever sure why I'm here." He sighed. "My wife died. She was murdered. Killed by some...thing."
A man had sidled up to John's left, setting his empty mug down and sliding towards the woman. "Bill Harvelle," he said, offering a hand as he nodded at the bartender. "And my wife, Ellen."
John shook his hand. "John Winchester."
"How, exactly, did your wife die?"
He closed his eyes and sighed. "This is going to sound crazy. Bat-shit crazy." He looked at Ellen. "In a fire. She was pinned to the ceiling."
"Do you have an infant child?" Bill asked, eyes flitting to Ellen.
John was shocked. "Y-yes. She died in his nursery."
"Where is he now?"
"In the car, with my other son."
Bill paused as if deep in thought. "How long ago?"
"A month."
"Look, John, I know a few guys that are huntin' this bastard. Nobody's seen it and lived to tell. I think you should stick around for awhile."
"He's right," Ellen agreed. "It'd be safest for you and your kids."
"El, go set up the guest room and I'll help John, here, round up his kids and whatnot."
"I'm not sure..." John began, only to be interrupted by Bill.
"Look, if you wanna find this thing – and I think you do – you're gonna want to stick around. These guys have been tracking this demon – well, trying to track it."
"Demon?" And John had thought he'd be received as delirious.
"I'll explain it all to you later. Let's bring your boys in out the cold."
oxo
336 hours (two weeks) of research later
The phone behind the bar rang, a sudden loudness in the silence of the closed roadhouse. It was enough to startle Sammy, John could hear the whimpers starting from a room away. He went to tend to Sam as Bill got up to get the phone as it rang a second time.
"It's Bobby," he told Ellen. "He's got news."
"Where is he?"
"Scottsbluff. He'll be here in forty-five."
John reentered the back room, Sam cradled to his chest. "So?"
"Bobby. He's got info."
oxo
"Look," Bobby said again, taking his cap off to scratch his head, the thinning hair sticking in awkward angles. He pulled the hat back on. "It wasn't after your wife, it was after your son. I've found four other cases in the Midwest, same m.o. On the kid's sixth month birthday, the mother is killed. Two cases where the whole family is burned alive, all remains accounted for except those of the kid – which tells me that the kid survived. This is gonna keep happening."
"Unless we stop it," Bill said dejectedly, glancing at John.
John's mouth opened, closed. He shook his head. "I want to help – I do. But my boys. I can't risk 'em."
"I'll watch them, John. Don't you worry," Ellen said, patting his arm reassuringly.
"I think," Bill started, "I think it might be best to keep them separate – I mean, in case something does happen. If it comes after Sam again, you don't want to lose Dean, too."
John looked torn; the idea of splitting them up... But Bill had a point. He'd just lost his wife, did he want to lose both of his boys, too? "You're right," he admitted quietly. "But who else?"
"Maura," Bobby offered. "My wife."
And then it was decided. Sam would stay with Ellen while Dean went to Bobby's in South Dakota.
oxo
John, Bobby, and Bill left shortly after Christmas, heading for Billings, Montana, where there'd been a report of a fire resulting in the death of the mother of an infant. Aside from random drop-ins when they were nearby, the men didn't return to Harvelle's for any extended period of time until the Fourth of July.
John had missed Dean's fifth birthday and Sam's first, and he was taken aback at how much his sons had grown. He'd missed out on so much.
Ellen had greeted him with a warm, one-armed hug, Sam hefted on her hip. "Do you want to go to your dad?" she asked Sam, smiling encouragingly.
Sam just clung to her shoulder, small mouth turned into a quivering frown.
"Oh, come on, honey. Go to Daddy." She leaned him towards John.
His tiny fingers dug into her back and chest as he strained to hold on. "Nonono!"
"It's all right, Ellen. He doesn't remember me." John could barely conceal his anguish that Sam - Sammy, who loved to snuggle right into the crook of John's neck and nap contentedly for hours – was afraid of him.
"John," she said sadly, cradling Sam against her.
"It's okay."
"Daddy!" Dean exclaimed, tugging at the hem of John's overshirt.
John grinned, swooping Dean up in his arms. "Hey there, dude. How are you?"
"I'm okay," Dean nodded. He glanced at Sam and wrapped his arms protectively around John's neck. "I missed you. Are you coming home?"
"For a little while."
"Awesome."
John grinned at that, hugging Dean tightly, repeating, "Awesome."
oxo
By the end of the two week vacation, Sam had warmed up enough to John that he'd let John hold him. There was a difference between them that John could feel, a rift. And when he handed Sam over to Ellen as he and Bill prepared to head out again, Sam went willingly; he didn't clutch and cry like he had the first time. It broke John's heart, but he knew it was for the best.
"Say goodbye to your brother," John told Dean.
Dean looked up at him disbelievingly, eyebrows arched high, eyes wide. "He's not my brother."
"Dean."
The five-year-old looked at him like he was crazy. "He's not," Dean said simply as he started for the roadhouse's back door.
John and Ellen shared a glance, and Bill kissed his wife goodbye.
oxo
September 1984
Two things happened as the heat of the summer started to wane. Ellen learned that she was pregnant – she and Bill were going to be parents! And Maura believed that someone or something was watching the house.
The day after Bill received his joyous news, Bobby got a panicked phone call from his wife.
"Bobby?" was the harsh whisper into the receiver. "Bobby, I'm scared."
He could hear the fear and unshed tears in her voice. "It's okay, honey, you're all right. What's going on?"
"I think there's something out there."
"Where?"
"The field."
"I'm sure it's nothing."
A small sob escaped her mouth. "Dammit, Bobby. Something's out there. The dogs just sit on the porch and whine. They know."
Bobby was silent for a long moment. "How long?"
"A few days, maybe a week."
"Where's Dean?"
"He's here. I don't let him out of my sight, won't let him outside. Please come home, Bobby." Desperately, "Please?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'll be there by morning."
oxo
True to his promise, dawn was breaking as Bobby's truck fishtailed up the gravel drive to his house. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. If anything, it all looked perfect – looked like home. He took the porch steps two at a time, crossed the deck in two strides, and threw the door open. "Maura?" he called. "Maura!"
John found her in the living room, standing in the middle of the floor, head cocked to the side curiously. "Where is that sweet boy?" she asked Bobby, face serene. "He doesn't want to come out and play."
Bobby was confused. "Maura? Honey? You okay?"
A dreamy smile was all the response he got. "He's hiding, the naughty boy."
Perfect on the outside, all wrong on the inside. Bobby backed up to the doorway. "Maura, come here."
A slight nod and she obliged, stopping suddenly with a jerk at the edge of the area rug. The calm look on her face dissolved into rage. "You think you can hold me? There'll be others coming, and you'll all die! You'll see. Every last one of you, sacrificed like the animals you are."
Bobby knew how to hunt, kill. But possessions? Nothing. Well, outside of that a Devil's Trap could contain a demon. But that had been a safety precaution of Bill's concerning Dean. Bill was the one who knew about possessions. Bobby didn't know what to do, how to get his wife back. "Maura."
"I can't wait 'til I get outta here. That boy? His blood will be sweet. I'll make you a deal – bring me the child and you can go free."
"No!"
"Then you can watch while I eviscerate him and suck the marrow from his bones."
That was all it took. Just that little bit of provocation, and Bobby went over. The blade of his knife sang as he withdrew it from its sheath and Maura screamed as Bobby thrust the knife into her chest once, twice, three times.
She crumpled to the floor as black smoke seeped from her mouth and disappeared down the hallway.
The knife clattered to the carpet and Bobby dropped to his knees beside Maura's body. He turned her over, hand trembling as he stroked her face. "M-maura? Honey?"
Her sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling, focused on some point behind Bobby's head.
"Bobby?" a tiny, fearful voice called out.
"Dean!" Bobby rushed out of the living room, pulling the door closed behind him. "Where are you, son?"
The boy came running down the stairs so fast that Bobby was sure he'd trip and tumble the rest of the way down. Dean's face was red and sweaty, streaked with tears and snot. "Bobby!" Dean's arms wrapped around his neck and held tightly. Bobby held on to him just as desperately, lifting him off the floor.
"What happened kiddo?"
Dean shook his head. "I don't know. Maura was scared. She told me to go hide and hide real good."
"Did she say why?"
"There was something that wanted to come in. She said it was bad and that I was s'posed to hide and wait for you."
"You're a very good boy for staying put."
"Where's Maura?"
Bobby didn't want to lie to him, but he couldn't tell him the truth, either. "I'm not sure, kiddo. Why don't we go find your dad, huh?"
Dean nodded. "'Kay."
"Just wait on the porch for me for a couple minutes, all right? I've gotta make a call."
oxo
After Maura's death, Bobby took some time to himself. Just left Dean with Bobby and Bill and said, "Sorry. I can't."
Bobby had to wonder if this demon wasn't after Dean instead. Nothing had happened to Ellen, nothing possessed her. Then again, he guessed it could be argued that whatever was after Sam was just picking off everybody helping to protect him.
And he knew it wasn't John's fault, as much as he wanted to blame him. It was his own. He was the one who'd offered up his wife to watch Dean. There was just no way he could've known what could happen because of it.
oxo
May, 1985
Bill and John had returned at the beginning of April, just before Ellen gave birth to Joanna Beth.
John tried to stay out of the way of the happy family, which now included his son. His heart had dropped the first time he'd seen Ellen pull Sam into her lap and help him cradle Jo in his arms and heard her tell him, "See? Your sister's not scary, is she?"
Sam had blushed a little, admitting, "No." Then, "She's small."
John had excused himself and taken Dean for a walk.
oxo
The day after Sam's second birthday, John and Bill got a call about poltergeists in Omaha. Bill kissed his wife, kissed the top of his daughter's head, and ruffled Sam's hair. "We'll be back in a few days, all right?"
When Sam said, "Bye, Daddy," he wasn't talking to John.
The drive to Omaha was tense, even Dean sensing the strain in the silence.
Once there, John leaned into the backseat. "Sit tight, kiddo. This shouldn't take too long. Two hours, tops." He gave Dean a reassuring smile.
Dean grinned back, revealing the gap where he'd recently lost a tooth, thankful that John wasn't mad at him, too. "Okay, Dad."
But when John returned, he was alone and bloody.
"Where's Uncle Bill?" he asked. The look in John's eyes when their eyes met in the rearview mirror told Dean more than he should've been able to comprehend as a six-year-old. "He's not coming back."
oxo
Dean could hear the yelling, the screaming and the crying, from the Impala. He buried his face in the seat not wanting to hear Ellen's wailing. "You never come back here, John Winchester. Never!"
John's face was flushed when he got in the car. "Come on up here, Dean."
Dean's eyes were wide. John didn't ever let him sit up in the front with him. He climbed over the seat excitedly, plopped down, and pulled his seatbelt on.
"Are you ready, dude?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. 'Cause we got some work to do."
oxoxo