Prologue
Author's Notes:
You will notice that much of this prologue is quite cliche, or even 'lame', or 'cheesy'. I can assure you that it get's much less 'cheesy' as you read on in the story. I was attempting [at the very beginning] to create a very warm, family kind of feel to the opening scene [hence, the 'lame' dialogue]. I hope you can all forgive me for this.
P.S. I am currently looking for a dedicated Beta Reader. Anybody who is interested, let me know.
Lawrence, Kansas
22 years ago, 1983
7.00pm
The family gathered around baby Sam's crib, watching over him as he fell asleep. Sam's mother, Mary Winchester tickled him on the nose playfully as she wished him love and safety through the night.
'You reckon Sammy is big enough to play football with your old man yet, Dean?'
Mary spun around with a smile on her face when she heard the voice of her husband, John. 'No Daddy!' Dean giggled.
John paced over to the side of the crib, and stroked his small baby boys face soothingly. 'Goodnight Sammy, sweet dreams,' he said in a whisper.
'C'mon Dean, wanna go watch some TV with your dad?'
'Yeah!' Dean replied happily.
With that, they all exited the Sam's room, and left him to the eerie silence of the night.
3.00am
Mary Winchester awoke to the sound of her baby crying over the baby monitor. It was a cold night, and she shivered in the soft, cool breeze that was flowing through the open window. 'John?' she sighed as she turned over, only to see the other side of the bed empty. She sighed again as she rose from her mattress. She slowly moved across her bedroom to the open window. She took a minute to look outside and the quiet, dimly lit street, before closing the window. She moved out of her bedroom, and towards Sam's room. She shivered yet again as she reached the door, 'Geez, it's cold.' She muttered to herself. She pushed the door open to see a figure standing by Sam's crib.
'John?'
'Shhh' was all the figure said.
'Okay then', Mary replied, slightly frustrated by her husbands short, blunt reply. It would be nice to get a proper response, she thought, but she was too tired to argue.
She began to pace back to her bedroom when she heard some noise coming from down stairs. She figured John had been watching television when Sam had cried, and he had just left it on while he came up to calm him down.
She reached the bottom of the stairs to find the television indeed still on, but also John asleep on the armchair. 'Sammy…'
She turned around, and bolted back up the stairs. 'Sammy…SAMMY!', she shouted out for her baby.
She reached Sam's bedroom, and flung open the door. She focused on the figure for a second, before a look of terror spread across her face, and fear took over her body.
'NOO!' she screamed.
John Winchester awoke to the sound of his wife's screams.
'MARY...MARY!' he shouted out as he sprinted through the house, and up to Sam's bedroom. When he arrived, however, everything was quiet and calm; with no sign of his wife anywhere. A look of confusion spread across his face, but only for a second. He looked over at his baby boy, a smile appeared on his face as he slowly made his way to Sam's crib. He again, stroked his son's face.
He noticed a drop of some sort of red liquid hit the pillow next to Sam's head. He touched it with his finger. It was quite thick, and was a very dark red colour. Before he had a chance to even think about what it could have been, another drop landed on his hand, and another, and another. He looked up at the ceiling.
'OH GOD, NO! MARY!'
He screamed as he looked up at his wife, sprawled on the ceiling, with a huge gash on her stomach, and blood soaked clothing. She wore a horrified expression on her already pale face. Suddenly, flames began to pour out from her body, and soon engulfed the ceiling. In a matter of minutes, the upper section of the house was alight.
'NO, MARY! NO!' John screamed.
He took one last look at his wife, before grabbing the now crying Sam from his crib and running into the hallway. 'DADDY, what's happening?' Dean shouted, appearing from his bedroom.
'Dean, take your brother, and run as fast as you can to the front lawn. Do not stop, or look back. GO!' Deans terrified, but in control father exclaimed hurriedly. With that, Dean sprinted down the stairs, through the living room, and out of the front door of the now fully ablaze Winchester household.
Dean had just made it onto the front lawn when he was swept up into his father's arms and carried to the safety of the road. All John could do was stare at his house. But even though he was watching the flames rapidly engulf his home, he was not taking any notice. All he could see was his wife, sprawled on the ceiling, bleeding from her stomach. He would never be able to forget the image of horror that had been plastered on her face before she burst into flames.
3.30am
The noise was deafening. Fire truck sirens, police and ambulance sirens. People shouting, fire hose's spraying water over the black rubble that was once the Winchester residence. None of this, however, was registering in John Winchesters ears. All he could do was hug his children and think about what he had seen only minutes ago. This was no accident, nor an ordinary house fire. This was not even a regular murder. This was something else. Something supernatural. John was going to get to the bottom of it. From now on, his life had only one meaning: find who, or what was responsible for his wife's death, and make them pay for what they had done to him and his family.
