November 2, 1983. Mary is holding a baby in her arms, a little boy. John is also holding a bundle of blankets. Amongst the blankets is another baby, a little girl. She sleeps peacefully, holding on to her daddy's finger. Dean is sitting on the couch beside Mary, looking at his younger brother. He looks up at Mary and asks, "When do I get to play with him?"
"You have to wait until he's a bit older. Then you can play with him and Caitlin," she said, looking down at her other son.
"I don't want to play with her…she's a girl! And girls can't play with boys." He said scowling at the bundle in John's arms.
"Girls can too play with boys, Dean! Sometimes girls are even stronger than the boys," she whispered in to him leaning down. John chuckled and shook his head at the joke his wife had just made.
"I don't believe it!" Dean replied.
Mary laughed at her naïve four-year-old. "Oh, you will someday. She'll be as tough as you. Now go get ready for bed."
Dean did as he was told, and ran upstairs to get ready for bed. He walked back to the twins' nursery where his mom was with both children, putting them to bed. "Come say goodnight to your brother and sister, Dean." He ran over to Sam's crib first, leaning over the side of the crib and kissed Sam's forehead, telling him goodnight, then ran over to Caitlin's crib and kissed her forehead and told her goodnight.
…
Later that night, Mary woke to hearing one of the twins on the baby monitor. She rolled over, looking for John, but he wasn't there. She got up and went to the twins' nursery, and saw a man standing over the children's cribs. Thinking it was John, she asked if one of them was hungry, but he shushed her, so she turned and went back out into the hallway.
Seeing a flickering light, she walked over to it and tapped it a couple of times, and it stopped. She walked downstairs, hearing the TV running, but stopped when she saw her husband sleeping in the chair in front of it. She turned around and ran back up the stairs to the nursery, calling for Sammy and Caitlin, and stopped short. She screamed. Upon hearing his wife scream, John woke up and ran up the stairs to the twins' nursery. As he walked in, he didn't see his wife. He walked over to Sam's crib and looked down at him, sighing. Then he noticed something. A drop of blood had fallen beside the baby's head. He touched it with his fingers, and then noticed another couple of drops on his hand. He looked up and saw Mary pinned to the ceiling, her body pale, and blood on the front of her nightgown. John yelled and fell back as she burst into flames. John grabbed Sammy, who was now crying and ran into the hall, where Dean was standing.
"Dean, take your brother and run outside as fast as you can. Go!" Dean took his baby brother and ran outside. John turned around and saw that nearly the whole nursery was engulfed in flames. He ran over to the other crib and grabbed the screaming Caitlin, before turning and running outside behind Dean, grabbing both him and Sam in one arm, while holding Caitlin in his other arm. "Gotcha," he said as he grabbed his other two children and continued running from the house. As he ran, the room that was the nursery exploded.
…
When he got to a safe distance from the house, he sat Dean and Sam down, and then looked at Caitlin, noticing blood on her hand. Upon examining her hand, he noticed two parallel cuts. Nothing to serious or deep, but serious enough that it would leave two parallel scars on her hand for the rest of her life, a memory of the night her mother was killed.