John Winchester didn't know what to do when Mary died.

After that night—that dreadful night, which started with bedtime stories and ended with flames, "Dean take your brother and go", John fell apart.

It wasn't something he was proud of and he tried. Tried to move on—the pastor offered them a bed in his house, but John—always the stubborn one—declined.

At least, he thought he did. Things were blurry after the fire. Things moved to fast, Sammy: tears and flailing arms, reaching, and Dean: asking John where Mommy was, and neighbors: everywhere, offering casseroles and condolences, that John didn't know what to do with.

At one point, he came out of the fog to discover that they were living in a hotel room, and Dean was there—all dirty blonde hair and looking exactly like Mary—telling John to change Sammy's diaper, and John wasn't sure how he got so smart.

There were other pieces, flashes: neighbors yelling about neglecting his family, and the pastor talking, (comforting) but John couldn't think about anything but Mary—just Mary, so he doesn't hear his words. Blonde hair, and green eyes, and telling stories to Dean and Sam—stories about kings and queens and evil men that tried to capture the princes.

John didn't think that the princes should be in danger when there was a big strong king there to protect him. And its thoughts of Mary, in the end, that brings him out of his fog, and back into the real world, where everything is bright and clear and in focus. He realizes just how far he is gone when he sees Dean feeding Sammy his bottle, and changing him, and singing to him to stop his crying.

And he vows, right then and there, that he will always take care of them.

But this revelation comes with a new sense of purpose, and he packs the boys up and seats them in the back of the Impala, choosing (instead of the truth) to tell Dean that their destination is a surprise, and they leave Lawrence in a cloud of dust.

John doesn't look back.

They go to California first, perhaps because it is the farthest he can think of that he can go to get away from Kansas, and that is where he begins to find contacts, buy a thick leather journal, and start his hunt. But things are difficult: John is too scared to settle down, they don't stay at a place for more than two nights, and Sam is only a year old. Dean, at five, is the best son he can ask for, and when he watches him shoot a toy bow and arrow, he applauds himself for his brilliance.

John gives the boy a paint-ball gun, and watches as his oldest hits the target every time. And so, he leaves the house for days at a time, gives Dean a shotgun, and he knows they are safe.

But it is not the training that slows John, only the truth of monsters to his oldest that throws John slightly. John can still here his little, six year old voice: You're lying. Mommy told me monsters weren't real." And the only way that John knew to convince him was to bring up Sam: They're real. I have to tell you so you'll take care of Sammy. No one takes care of Sammy like you do. Dean, you are the best at one thing in the whole wide world. Do you know what that is?"

"No."

"Taking care of your brother. And that's what I need you to do. Always, okay?"

"Yes sir."

His son was a good warrior. And he was sure his other one would be too.

So John learns to move forward,(but never on), past Mary. And though he regrets it a little bit, he devotes the rest of his life to finding Mary's killer. Because if he doesn't have something to hunt, he doesn't know what to do. And so he does what he has to—to keep Mary's boys alive.