8 year old Mary Rose Winchester watched from the dirty hotel window as her father climbed into his black impala and drove away without a backward glance.
Fat, heavy tears fell from her jade-green eyes as his car disappeared in the distance. She always hated when he left, even though she really didn't know where he went on his business trips. Her older brother Dean said that he had to travel a lot to make money to buy food and clothes, but Mary Rose had never once seen him pack anything but clothes and guns. The grown-up on TV never took that kind of stuff when they went to work.
"Rosie, get away from the window and come eat some dinner." Her 12-year-old brother Dean said, pulling the curtains closed and gently pushing her toward the couch where her twin brother, Sam, was pulling cartons of Chinese take-out from a plastic bag.
"I don't like Chinesees food," she mumbled, but sat down anyway, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.
"Its Chinese, not Chinesees," stated Sam, passing her a plate loaded with rice and tender chicken.
Mary Rose pouted, sticking her lower lip out and frowning at her plate. "Well I still don't like it."
"I know," Dean said softly, sitting in the floor in front of the tiny couch, "but it's all Dad had time to get before he had to leave."
"He's always leaving," she sighed softly, before voicing a fear she'd always held deep in her heart. "Doesn't he like us?"
"What?" Dean asked, staring at his sister as if she'd spouted a new head. "Why would you think that?"
"Because he's always gone," she whispered, tears filling her eyes once more. "We're always moving and we never have any money, and Daddy comes home hurt all the time and won't say what happened." Tears were pouring from her eyes, uncontrollable sobs shaking her slight form. "A-and he wasn't home for Christmas, and h-he wasn't sorry, and he forgot o-our b-b-birthday."
Dean and Sam looked at each other, both unsure what do to or say to their sobbing sister. They both knew the reason that their father hadn't been around for Christmas and why he was always gone all the time. But their father had made them each swear to never breath a word about it to their little sister; for her protection.
Sam wrapped an arm around his sister. Even though they were twins, Mary Rose was much smaller than him. Pulling her in for a tight hug while rubbing her back gently, he explained to her, "Dad has to work; he's job is to take care of us and that's what he's doing." Brushing her long curly brown hair back, Sam wiped her tears as best he could with his shelve. "And I'm sure he didn't mean to forget our birthday; he was probably just busy. But me and Dean remembered, and got you that pretty doll, remember? And you and Dean got me that watch from the dollar store, remember?"
"Yeah, Rosie," Dean said, putting his plate down and sliding closer to the couch. "Me and Sam will always remember and be here, even when Dad can't."
"Really?" she asked, staring at her brothers with complete trust.
"Really," Sam and Dean replied together, sounding more serious than any 8-or-12-year-old should.
"Ok," Rosie said, wiping the last of her tears way and giving each brother a tight hug before returning her forgotten food.
The three ate their food in a comfortable silence and then watched some "I love Lucy" re-runs before Dean declared it bedtime.
Rosie used the bathroom first, brushing her teeth and washing her face before pulling on one of her father's over large Marine shirts to sleep in. Next, she climbed into one of the double beds with her brother Sam while Dean turned off the light.
All was quite while each child settled in for the night. Finally, just before drifting to sleep, Mary Rose said softly, "Goodnight Daddy, wherever you are."
Mary Rose wasn't sure what exactly woke her, but whatever it was, it pulled her from deep sleep to sudden wakefulness in an instant. Sitting up slowly, she looked around, seeing both her brothers sleeping deeply and unaffected by whatever it was that roused her from dreamland.
She pushed the covers away from herself and slipped silently from the bed. She paused at the door, turning back when she heard Dean cough in his sleep.
She exited the room when Dean rolled over and slept on, unaware that his little sister left their room and his protection.
Padding on silent feet, Rosie made her way toward the dirty window where she'd earlier watched her father drive away. Pulling the curtain away she stared into the darkness, searching for her father's headlights; wondering if he would be coming back tonight.
Green eyes swept along the darkness, coming to rest at the dim streetlight across the parking lot. As she watched, a tall man walked from the shadows, seeming to emerge from the very darkness. Rosie watched as he continued walking across the black top, never once glancing around like most would. Their eyes held contact the whole way, her curious green ones held by his piercing grey ones.
The man stopped when he was about ten feet from the hotel room. Rosie watched as he raised he hand and waved to her. Rosie didn't return his friendly gesture, remembering what he father had told her about strangers.
Hearing a small click and creaking hinges as the front door opened, Rosie turned toward the sound, wondering idly if her father had arrived and she'd missed him. Seeing no one, Rosie turned back to the man, only to notice that he was gone.
Her young face scanned the dark parking lot again, wondering where he'd gotten to so fast. Seeing no one, Rosie turned from the window, only to be brought up short by the sight of the man standing framed in the door way of their hotel room.
For the first time, fear ran up her spine as he continued to stare at her. Throwing a quick glace to the bedroom door where her brothers slept, Rosie took a faltering step in that direction while keeping her wary eyes on the man.
"Wh-who are you?" her question held the curiosity of the child she was and the fear of the unknown.
"I'm a friend of your fathers," the man replied smoothly, looking around the tiny hotel room as if hoping to spy John Winchester. "Is he around?" His voice was silky, like the guy from a game show she had once seen.
"D-daddy's not here." Almost at once, she knew that that was the wrong thing to say, so she quickly supplied, "But both my brothers are and I d-don't think that they w-would like you here."
An evil smile crossed his thin lips. "I know that they won't."
Mary Rose felt wave of darkness push against her, pressing her back into the wall, holding her against her will and forcing a scream from her. As she watched, the same heavy darkness seemed to melt away the thin line of salt that Dean had laid earlier, "to keep night monsters out" he'd told her.
As soon as the line was broken, the man walked into the room, strolling calmly around as if he owned the place.
There was banging on the bedroom door; both Dean and Sam had awoken at her scream and were trying as hard as they could to open the door. Dean was yelling for her, shouting her name over and over to try and get a responds. Mary Rose wanted to answer him, but it felt as if her voice was locked inside her; no matter how hard she tried, nothing would come out.
Tears born of terror rolled down her childish face as the man watched calmly, studying her still form in the semi-darkness. She watched as his eyes shifted from grey to complete black, even the whites of his eyes flashing the darkest black she'd ever seen. Cocking his head to the side, the man studied her. "You look so much like her, its amazing. Except the hair; she had such beautiful blond hair." He took two steps toward her, lowering himself to her level. He reached out and fingered a lock of her soft brown hair, letting a curl wrap its way around his wrist. Mary Rose squeezed her eyes tightly closed, wishing with all her young heart that her daddy would brust through the open door and save her.
"I can always change that, though," the man continued, brushing her hair behind her ear. Rosie felt a tingling all over her head, as if someone were lightly messaging the scalp. Her eyes flew open and watching in wonder as her brown hair transformed to white-blond. "There, that's better. In a few years, after you've grown a little, you could be her twin."
Rosie let out a helpless whimper as the man continued to study her, tracing one lean hand across her check, smearing a wet track of hot tears.
She felt her arms, heavy at her side, twitch under the stain of her trying to force them to move. Feeling as if she was pushing against a mountain, Rosie finally regained control of her limbs, and quickly shoved the man away from her before turning once more to the bedroom door.
"Dean!" she yelled, pounding on the heavy door with all her might.
"Rosie! Rosie, open the door!" Dean answered, pulling with all his strength from the other side. He and Sam shared one horror-filled glance when they heard the sheer terror in their little sister's voice.
"I c-can't! P-please let me in!" Rosie sobbed, unable to push the door open on her own. Turning, she pressed her back against the door, and watched as the man picked himself up from the floor where he had fallen.
"You're a lot stronger than I thought you would be," he muttered to himself, walking once more toward her.
Rosie once again felt that wave of darkness press against her and this time threw both her hands out in front of her, as if she could physically hold it back.
Amazingly, she could. She felt the darkness pressing against her hands, and shoved with all her might. She watched, shocked, as the man was throwing back, as if by a physical blow out the very window she had earlier watched him from. Glass shattered and rained down on him as he lay crumbled on the sidewalk.
Rosie felt another ripple in the air, this one of pure rage as the man shot up and back into the room, stopping only a few feet from her.
Screaming, Rosie raised her hands to shield her face as he pulled his arm back as if to slap her.
He's intended blow never made contact; instead the room was filled with a blinding blue-toned light. Another scream ripped through the night, this time his.
"Shut your eyes," a voice whispered softly in her ears. Rosie squeezed her eyes tightly closed, but even behind her lids she could make out the bright light. Tempted, she opened one eye cautiously. Seeing nothing, she opened both eyes. Panic set in as she realized she was blind.
"You need to keep your eyes closed," the same voice whispered, "It is the only way to protect you."
Closing her eyes tightly once more, Mary Rose also raised her trembling hands to her ears to block out the frightening screams from the man that slit through the night air.
Sinking to her shaking knees, Rosie prayed with all her heart that her daddy would appear and make this whole nightmare go away.
John Winchester was bone weary and more than ready for this night to be over. He'd spent the last 10 hours on the road, chasing a dead lead. All he wanted was to pull over and take a short nap before picking the kids up and continuing on the road for however-long till the next job.
But no matter how tried he was, something was nagging him, telling him to stay awake and head straight for his children. John wasn't sure what, but he'd learned long ago to trust his instincts over everything else. That tendency had saved him on more than once, and he wasn't prepared to risk ignoring it now.
Even so, the road started to blur slightly in front of him, weaving in and out as fatigue pulled at his mind. He could feel his head growing heavier and heavier with each passing second. Shaking himself, John debated on stopping for a quick cup of coffee, but immediately dismissed the idea when he saw the turn off for his hotel.
Five more minutes, he thought. Five more minutes and I'll be able to give into sleep.
Even as his brain was processing that thought, the radio in his car, which had been turned low on some all-night-rock channel, started to fade in and out, switching channels and the dial rolled all over the place, as if an invisible hand were toying with it.
Cold dread filled him. "No," he whispered softly to himself, pressing the gas petal down as hard as he could.
He needed to get to his children now.
Because someone else, something else, already had.
John wasn't aware of pulling into the parking lot with speed and squealing tires. Neither was he aware of jumping from the car after slamming it into park.
All he was really aware of was the brilliant blue light that flooded the room he had rented. He could hear Dean and Sam, as if from far away, yelling for their sister.
He ran straight for the door, which was open and the salt line Dean had laid earlier broken. John felt his heart stop; then pound against his ribs, almost knocking him down with the powerful thrusts.
"No," he whispered again, blinded by the light that still flowed all around him. "No! Dean! Sam! Mary!" he shouted into the light, unable to see anything but the blinding intensity.
Suddenly his whole body went ridged, held still by an unseen hand. "Wait," was whispered into his ears as his eyes were forced shut. "The children are safe. We're protecting them."
John found himself unable to respond, but that didn't stop him from trying. He's eyes were glued shut but he could still feel the burning heat of the blinding light beneath his lids. He could still hear the boys yelling, screaming for their sister.
He couldn't hear her at all.
And as suddenly as it had happened, it was all over. Feeling returned to his body and his eyes flew open, no longer blinded because the light was simply gone; as if someone had thrown a switch.
John fell into the hotel room, barely noticing that it looked as if a bomb had gone off.
He had eyes only for the little girl, his little girl, who lay unmoving on the floor in front of the bedroom door. A door which untrained locked to Dean and Sam, who were still pounding on the door, shouting for their sister.
John dropped to his knees and gathered his daughter close, holding her to his chest as if she were made of the most delicate of glass.
Standing, he shouted to the boys, "Move back!"
A moment passed, then he kicked the door in, freeing his sons from the bedroom. Both rushed to his side, questions that they couldn't ask in their young eyes.
"Dad," Dean said, his eyes falling to his unmoving sister. "I'm sorry, I didn't know she left, I'm sorry." His words trailed off as his eyes meet his father's.
Whatever John had been about to say was lost, as Mary Rose chose that moment to suck in a deep, faltering breath. John let out a startled gasp as he fell to the ground, his legs unable to hold him any longer. As he watched, his daughter opened her eyes and sat up in his arms.
"D-daddy?" her voice was rough and shaky, as if she hadn't used it in years.
"Yes baby, it's me. You're safe now. Daddy's got you." John mumbled, stroking back her hair, which was now white blond, where it had once been dull brown. His hands shook and his mind raced from thought to thought, unable to linger on one before flying off to another.
Tears filled and overflowed Rosie's eyes, falling unheeded and staining both her face and her daddy's jacket. "Don't ever leave, Daddy. P-please don't ever leave again." Pain filled her words, causing tears to flood her brother's eyes, as well as her father's.
"Baby," John started softly, unsure how to make such an impossible promise. Instead, he decided to get to the heart of the matter. "Baby, what happened?"
Mary Rose turned her head away, hiding her face from everyone.
John raised his eyes for the first time to his other children. Dean looked at him dead on, his eyes filled with regret and confusion. Sam was watching his twin, unable to understand the pain he could feel rolling off her in waves. "What happened?" John repeated, more forceful than before.
"She screamed and I got up to see what was wrong. But the door slammed shut and I- We couldn't get it open." Dean rambled on, the weight of his father's disapproval forcing his shoulders into a slum. "I didn't even know she'd left." The last was ended so low, John almost missed it.
"You were supposed to look after her!" John yelled at his oldest son, startling both the twins.
"Dad-," Sam started, only to be brought up short by his father.
"No! You were supposed to look after her, to make sure she was safe!" John knew that he was being unreasonable, but fear had a firm grip on his mind and refused to let go.
"Daddy," Rosie whispered softly, placing her tiny hands on either side of his face, forcing him to turn and look at her. Sliding from his arms, she stood, at eye level with him from where he sat stunned on the ground. "Daddy," she said again, "a bad man came. He was going to hurt me, but then they came."
John stared at his child in shock. "They? They who?"
"They whispered to me that I needed to close my eyes, that they would protect me and my brothers. And even you." Rosie's child-like features held a level of seriousness that John rarely saw in full-grown men.
"But, who?" John repeated, reaching up and pulling her hands from his face and gripping them tight.
"They saved us, Daddy," was her only reply. "They saved our family." That said, Rosie pulled her hands free and pulled each of her brothers toward where she and her father huddled together.
John let it go, for now, and embraced his children.
For now, he was just happy that everyone was safe.
For now.