Author's Note: until the "00000000000000000000000", if any of the people reading this haven't seen the first episode of Supernatural, it is the same as the beginning of the first eppy. The rest is a what-if. What if Mary wasn't the one that died that night in Sam's nursery?

Please read and review

Prologue

It was nighttime. Mary Winchester and her older son Dean were in their two-storey home in Lawrence, Kansas, putting baby Sammy to bed.

"Come on Dean, say good night to your brother," Mary gently set the four year old on the ground.

"Good night Sam," Dean said as he bent over Sam's crib.

"Good night love," Mary whispered and kissed her baby son.

"Hey Dean," John Winchester's voice sounded from behind.

"Daddy!" Dean ran over to his dad. John picked Dean up and tossed him slightly in the air.

"Hey buddy," John replied. "So, you think Sammy is ready to toss around a football?" he joked.

"No, daddy," giggled four-year-old Dean.

"You got him?" Mary asked her husband as she made her way out the room.

"I got him," John answered. "Sweet dreams, Sam," John turned off the light and left the room.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000

John was awake in his bed, unable to sleep. He was thinking of going downstairs, to watch a war movie, or whatever was on TV. His wife Mary was downstairs, baking something that smelled really good. Just as John was about to get up, he heard crying coming from the baby monitor standing close to Mary's side of the bed. He got up and went over to Sam's nursery. Through the doorway, he could see a dark figure standing by Sammy's crib.

Mary was taking her muffins out of the oven, when an angry shout pierced through the house, "Get the hell away from my son!" John yelled. Mary dropped the tray of muffins on the ground and ran upstairs.

She entered Sam's nursery. Sammy was lying quietly in his crib. She took her son into her arms. Her heart was pounding, and she was hoping with all she had that she was wrong about what was happening right now. Mary backed away from the crib, holding baby Sammy closely to herself. A small, crimson drop fell from the ceiling, landing on the edge of the crib. "No… it can't be…" Mary whispered to herself, tears welling up in her eyes. Mary looked up. There, pinned to the ceiling, was John. "No! JOHN!" Mary screamed. She ran to Dean's room and grabbed her older, half sleeping son. Not letting panic take over her, Mary ran out of the house. With an explosion of fire and heat, the window of the house burst, flame-covered glass falling to the ground barely missing Mary and her children.

Mary sat on the hood of her black, '67 impala, her sons sitting silently on her lap. Mary tried not to cry, to stay strong for her boys' sakes. She was overwhelmed by guilt that she didn't do anything to save her husband. But there was nothing she could have done. John was gone. The yellow-eyed demon killed him. There was nothing left for Mary to do but to go back to hunting evil.