Purpose

This is a prequel to "Demon Blood" that just suddenly popped into my head, and yes, the things that happen in this little one-shot are relevant in the future. You'll see. In the meantime, enjoy!

John Winchester was working in the shop when the phone call came that Mary was in labor.

A full month early.

He may not have been an expert in the world of childbirth, but John just couldn't understand why this was happening when Dean had been carried to full term with no problems whatsoever. Even more worrisome was the fact that this was happening as early as it was. Their unborn child could have all kinds of medical complications as a result of this and the thought was nothing short of terrifying.

Dean had already been dropped off at the neighbor's house, so John raced to the hospital as fast as his '67 Chevy Impala could go.

When he arrived, it was to find a terrified Mary getting her epideral. "John!" she gasped the moment she saw him. "Our baby…"

"It's OK," he told her, pulling her close and stroking her blonde hair, already damp with her sweat. "The baby's gonna make it, I promise you."

"You don't understand!" Mary said, pulling back and wincing in pain as another contraction presumably ripped through her. "It's been ten years… almost exactly ten years!"

"Mary, what're you talking about?" John asked, but Mary started crying incomprehensibly and buried her face in his chest, her body heaving with her sobs. John couldn't even begin to fathom what might be running through Mary's head, so he did the only thing he could and continued murmuring reassuring words to his wife.

It had taken thirteen hours of labor before Dean was born. This child took seventeen. Mary was alternating between screaming and crying, with interspersed mentions of "ten years" in her almost insane-sounding rambling. John stayed as calm as possible, but inside he was freaking out as the time dragged by. Please let my child be okay, he prayed silently as he let Mary grip his hand to the point of grinding bones together, never wincing at the pain because she clearly needed him to be the strong one right now.

Finally, the baby's tiny head emerged, followed quickly by the rest of its body. "It's a boy," one nurse announced.

"He's not breathing!"

Oh God.

Mary's sob somehow managed to become louder as their baby boy was whisked away from them. "Bring him back!" she cried. "Please, my son!"

The nurses tried to calm Mary down, tried to clean her up, but she just kept crying out for her baby. John didn't know what to do, didn't know how to fix this. He wanted his son in his arms, but they needed to save him first.

It was over an hour before they found out that the child had lived, but he was in the intensive care unit with a respirator of sorts to help him breathe. Mary wanted to see him straight away, but the doctor insisted that she clean up first. It was only the fear for their son's health that caused her to listen to reason.

The boy was tiny, eyes scrunched shut as he made occasional struggles for breath. "I can't even hold him," Mary whispered, leaning heavily against John as they stared at their son through a glass window. "John, tell me he'll be okay. Please say…"

"He'll make it," John said, putting as much confidence into his voice as possible. "He's a Winchester, he'll make it."

"Have you chosen a name for him yet?" a nurse asked sometime later when John had convinced Mary to return to her room to get some much-needed rest.

"Samuel," Mary said at once. "For my father."

John had never liked Samuel Campbell, but he knew Mary had loved her father dearly before his heart attack, so he let her choose the name. Again. Damn, he loved her too much, didn't he?

"I like it," the nurse said.

"Yeah," John murmured. "So do I."

"Mommy, where's the baby?"

Those would be the first words to pop out of Dean's mouth, John thought ruefully as Mrs. Dodson led Dean over to his mother's bed.

"The baby's sleeping," Mary told her son as he climbed into her arms. "Did Mrs. Dodson tell you what the baby is?" Dean shook his head, green eyes wide with curiosity. "The baby's a boy," Mary said. "His name's Samuel. You have a little brother now."

"Wow," Dean said. "Can I see him?"

Mary looked up at John, who swallowed hard. He knew his four-year-old son wouldn't understand what was wrong with Sam just now, but he could at least show him his new little brother, right?

"Yeah," John said. "C'mon, Dean, I'll take you to him. Let's go see Sam."

Dean broke into a happy smile, hugged Mary one last time and hopped off her bed. "Thanks, Mrs. Dodson!" he called as he followed John out of Mary's room.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Mrs. Dodson called back.

When they arrived in the intensive care unit, Dean ran straight to the observation window and started staring around at the dozen or so babies in the unit. "Where's my brother?" he demanded. "Daddy, where is he?"

"He's over there," John said, kneeling behind his oldest son and pointing in Sam's direction.

"Oh," Dean said, staring at Sam. "Why's he inside a glass box?"

The kid had always been too observational for his own good. John swallowed hard, trying to think of an answer. "Sam's sick," he finally said, "and since he's brand new, he could get even sicker without help. We can't even hold him yet." John felt tears threaten as his voice choked up slightly.

"You didn't get to hold him, yet?" Dean asked, eyes wide with something that seemed to be a mixture of shock and sadness. "Mommy can't hold him?"

"Nope," John said, shaking his head. "If he gets better soon, then we can start with just touching him, but we can't hold him for awhile, yet."

Dean stared up at John before turning back to look at Sam. "He's gonna get better, right?"

"Yeah, Dean," John said softly. "He will."

Dean moved so he was right up against the glass, staring at his little brother. "So I'm a big brother now?"

"You are," answered John with a small smile.

"And big brother's are s'posed to take care of little brothers, right?"

John was starting to wonder just where Dean was going with this. "Right," he said. "That's what Mommy told you."

Dean nodded his head, long hair bouncing around his face as he continued to stare at the small baby. "So he's my Sam."

"I…" John was slightly taken aback by Dean's logic, but something about the question just seemed to make perfect sense. "I guess he is," he finally answered.

"My Sam… Sammy. He's Sammy, and I'm gonna take care of him." Dean shot John a bright smile before looking back at Sam again. "You gotta be strong, Sammy," he said through the glass. "Me an' Mommy an' Daddy are gonna take care of you, so get better, okay?"

John couldn't help but wonder if something significant had just happened, something that could affect all their lives. He wasn't even sure where the thought came from, but it continued to persist long after Dean had left for the night to stay with Mrs. Dodson again.

Mary stared at Sam silently through the glass. He was breathing much better now, but they were going to wait a little longer before taking him out of the infant respirator.

It's been ten years, she thought as she watched her newborn son sleep. Ten years since I made that Deal, and nothing's happened. Why hasn't anything happened?

If there was one thing Mary knew, it was that demons were very specific about the due dates of their Deals. Mary had tried to not think about the events of that night, but it had been exactly ten years now, and there was no sign of that yellow-eyed demon. Was he going to come? Was he going to take her baby away?

When May third dawned bright and sunny with John still alive and Sam still in the hospital, Mary finally began to relax. She could put this behind her at long last. And when May fourth arrived, she was finally able to touch her son's hand for the first time.

Everything was going to be just fine, she was sure of it now.

John and Mary came back home on the seventh, but Sam wasn't well enough to leave the hospital yet. Dean asked once a day if they could go see Sam, and every single day, Mary said "yes". John would take Dean on the weekends while Mary would handle the weekdays so John could work overtime. Having a premature baby had the unfortunate side-effect of raising the hospital bill more than the insurance would pay.

"Sammy's gettin' bigger," Dean told Mary one day. "Can I touch him? Please?"

The nurses hadn't let him in thus far, but on this day he was particularly persistent to the point that the nurse on-duty finally said he could, "but only after you wash up," she told him firmly. "We don't want Sam getting sick, do we?"

"No, I don' want Sammy gettin' sick," Dean said, shaking his head quickly. Mary had to hide a smile over how adorable her oldest son was.

Once Dean was washed up, Mary led him over to Sam's bed. "Hey, Sammy," Dean said quietly, staring at the small baby. "It's Dean, your big brother. I'm gonna help take care of you when you come home." He carefully reached out and placed his forefinger against the palm of Sam's hand.

Sam's hazel eyes popped open and his little fist curled around Dean's finger. Mary felt her breath catch at the way Sam stared at Dean, like he already knew who he was, like he already trusted him. It was impossible, Mary told herself as she watched Dean smile at Sam, but still, there was just something about those two that suddenly seemed different from before.

"I love you, Sammy," Dean whispered, "an' I'm always gonna take care of ya."

Sam actually gave a small smile, and Mary felt that her boys would always be close.

Sam was released from the hospital at the end of the month, and it was John who carefully carried his newborn son inside their home, Mary following closely behind.

"He's home!" Dean shouted, startling his babysitter as he leapt to his feet. "Can I hold him now, Daddy? Please?"

John glanced at Mary, who grinned and nodded. "Come sit down on the couch," she told Dean, who grinned and practically flew into position. John sat down beside Dean and allowed Mary to help him transfer little Sam into Dean's arms. Sam squirmed a bit and made a sound of discontent, but the moment he was totally settled into Dean's arms, he calmed down and fixed his bright hazel eyes on Dean's face.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, smiling down at the small child. "I'm always gonna protect ya and help take care of ya, cause that's what big brother's do. I'm so glad you're home, Sam."

Sam smiled and gurgled happily, and John knew in that moment that Dean was going to be the best big brother in the whole world. Sam was very lucky. They all were.

The next five months were almost like a dream. Dean adored Sam and loved to help take care of him, and Mary just seemed to blossom with love for her boys. John had never been so happy his entire life.

So when it all came crashing down when Sam was exactly six months old, John's world was turned upside down, and the Winchester family would never be the same again.

Mary was dead, burned to nothing on the ceiling of Sam's nursery.

The next two weeks were spent researching. John rented a small apartment near the shop and found a babysitter to watch the boys during the day while he worked. In the evenings, he would go through books he picked up from the library, trying to find anything that could explain Mary's strange death scene.

But it was Dean who really changed. He lost a lot of the exuberance he'd had before that horrible night, but he never failed to help take care of Sam. He learned how to give his little brother baths and change his diapers and he'd even put Sam to bed on the nights when John couldn't help but drink himself into oblivion.

It was a psychic, Missouri Mosely who finally put him on the right path, who opened his eyes to a world where werewolves hunted the night along with spirits, poltergeists and so much more. He took her to the house, hoping the motherly psychic could sense what had killed Mary, but the only thing she could say for certain was that it was evil.

Why did it kill Mary? Why in Sam's nursery? There were too many questions and almost no way to find the answers. John struggled for a few more weeks with drinking too much at night before he finally figured out what he should do.

He was going to find and kill the thing that had taken Mary from him, but in the meantime, there were plenty of other things that needed to be taken out, too. He sold his half of the shop and used the money to buy supplies. And then he hit the road, never looking back. There was nothing else the retired Marine could do, now.

END