Title: The Old Family Business
Author: Flashes09
Rating: K+
Summary: Joseph Campbell: Farmer. Father. Widower. Hunter. Saving people, hunting things, it's a family business. A story of a Winchester Brothers' ancestor and his hunts at the turn of the 20th century.
A/N: So, I had this crazy idea the other day to write a story about the Winchester brothers ancestors. Originally it was just going to be a few little one-shots from different times that would show the Campbell's hunting. But as I thought about it more and more, I realized that I really liked one particular ancestor: Joseph Campbell, great-great-grandfather to Sam and Dean (or grandfather to Samuel, for easier reference). So, the following story is the life and times of Joseph Campbell. Please enjoy, and drop me a review if you like it.
A/N 2: The prologue is set during the first few episodes of season six, where Sam is hunting with Grandpa Samuel and is in contact with Dean.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural" or any of its affiliates.
Prologue
The old leather book is easy to miss, hidden amongst all the other old books of all different sizes and with all different bindings. Dean isn't sure why this tome is the one he picks, but when he sees it sandwiched between a heavy dark book that puts an encyclopedia to shame and a long, thin, yellowing book that seems to be crumbling away, the small brown volume calls to him, and he lifts the stack away to pull it out. The old stack gives a dusty wheeze as he drops the rest of the books unceremoniously back onto the shelf, the small particles swirling in the weak sunlight that penetrates the family fortress, but Dean's already flipping through the book in his hand and taking a seat on an old, broken loveseat.
It's clear that the book is a journal, similar to the one kept by his father, but Dean can tell right away that it's much older. The writing is small and neat, but written in cursive, something he hasn't seen in a while. The page are yellowing, but in good condition, signaling to Dean that maybe this journal hasn't been read as often as others. The first page tells who this journal belongs to:
Journal of Joseph Campbell
A few sentences in on the first entry and it's clear that this journal is of a more personal nature than the journals often read by the other family members, and normally he would put it down too, not interested unless it was about doing the job. Dean's never been much of a reader, not like Sam, or a fan of history for that matter, but something about the first few paragraphs of the journal are compelling to him, and he finds himself being pulled into the story.
April 11th, 1897
I buried my wife today, my sweet Josephine. She was only twenty-eight years of age. We did not bury her in our family plot, as is custom, but instead buried her under the magnolia trees she loved so much. The trees were in full bloom now, there delicate pink blossoms surrounding us as we laid my Josephine to rest. The trees are located far to the south of the main house, and it was almost a half hour of slow walking as the funeral procession made its way there. Although only early April and early in the day yet, the morning was stifling hot, and all of us in our black clothing were sweating.
Jasper, my first and only child who at four years old found himself motherless, walked along bravely beside me for five minutes before complaining of the heat. Normally I might tease him, then swing him up onto my shoulders and carry him along, but today I picked him up and held him close, and after a few minutes of rubbing his back, he fell asleep on my shoulder.
I had tried, unsuccessfully, to explain death to him, and to explain that his mother was lost to this world, but the concept had been too much for him to understand. We had sheltered him from the world, but now it had come around in full force. He did not understand that today we were burying his mother. He did not understand that his mother had not died from a fever. But as he grows older, I would allow him this illusion, because it is a far sweeter trick than the truth. Maybe when he is old enough, I will tell my son what really ended his mother's life. He will know that it was no natural cause that killed his mother, but a monster. He will learn the dark secret of our family, a secret I had long since turned my back to, as I had to the rest of my family. He will learn that our family is not a linage of farmers, but of those who stalk the night unafraid, protecting those who cannot protect themselves. "We are Campbells," I will tell him. "And we are hunters."
"What are you reading?" Dean is pulled from the world of Joseph Campbell by Samuel, who watches Dean with a keen eye. Wordlessly, Dean hands him the journal, and Samuel flips to the front page, scans the name, and hands it back.
"That's my grandfather." He says, watching Dean for reaction. Dean gives none, but it is interesting to know that Joseph is a direct relative. "That'd make him your great-great-grandfather. This was from when Campbells still lived in Virginia. Joseph was a tobacco farmer if I remember correctly. He rebelled from the family business, but ended up hunting again." Samuel never seemed to miss a chance to point out that everybody in the family either stayed a hunter their whole lives, or got away from the life only to come back. Samuel even seemed proud that every member of the Campbell family died a hunter. Dean knew Samuel was gearing up for a long-winded, one-sided conversation that would likely insult John Winchester, Mary, Sam, and Dean himself, and Dean found he wasn't really in the mood. Checking his watch, Dean stood up and made for the door.
"I've got to go, Lisa is expecting me." Dean knew Samuel disapproved of Lisa, or really anything not related to the hunter life, but Dean doesn't really care. He pockets the journal, walks out the door, and drives home.
Short, I know which is why I'll shortly be putting up the next chapter, which will be longer and, after a short intro bit, will take place entirely in Joseph's time.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and please review and let me know what you think!