Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.
Warnings: Violence, Minor Language, OCs, Unbeta'd (all mistakes my own)
Pairings: implied John/Mary
Spoilers: Season 1-3, minor spoiler for John Winchester arc in season 4

Description: Fewer things leaves a more powerful echo than the death of two siblings in sacrifice for one another. And while some react with dread and others rejection, a few dream. But dreams fade. And in the end, memories wouldn't have changed anything.

A/N: So this started out as something of a flashfic/one-shot-ish, before I decided to add chapters to it. (I would once again like to blame drabble-writing.) Anyways, this first chapter is John's view, reposted. Tomorrow, or more accurately, later on today will be Dean's chapter, and the day after, Sam. All three chapters are going to be entirely different styles of writing. Sam and Dean's chapters are based on the fact that the brothers hunted a werewolf when they were kids while John's provides a more general arc for the story. The chapter titles are lines taken from Tennyson's The Lady of Shallot. Enjoy!

Seventeen years ago, John Winchester hunted a werewolf and watched a sister and a brother die. Even as he raised his gun, he knew it was too late. The next few minutes were a blurred mass of blood, snarls, ripping, screams and ohgodi'mnotgoingtobeintime. Those minutes ended with a werewolf's head cranked around 180 degrees, bullet buried deep inside, the sister's chest half-carved open, and the brother's neck snapped with a shattering crack.

Five years ago, John Winchester ordered his youngest son to leave and never come back. His eldest looked at him after the youngest left and all he could see was an echo of that face unable to understand why a brother would ever leave.

Seventeen years ago an ambulance screamed its way to the park and John Winchester watched the sister's eyes become empty and haunted as she begged for her brother between wet coughs, unable to understand why he was gone.

One year ago, John Winchester put his head next to the son he had just sold his soul to save and whispered, "If you can't save Sammy, you might have to kill him." His eldest stared in shock, unable to understand how he could be expected to kill the brother he had always sworn to protect.

Seventeen years ago, the doctors told John Winchester that her heart gave out from too much blood loss, too much trauma, too much shock. Too much. But he could hear the nurses whisper. A serious injury, they said, but she was young, whole life ahead of her, such a bright laugh, but she loved her brother more than anything and didn't it seem like she just gave up?

One week ago, John Winchester watched helplessly as Alistair snickered his way over and showed him Dean, clutching his brother's lax body and gently stroking the lifeless head lolling against his shoulder. And as Dean screamed for Sam, all he could see was a pair of stunned eyes unable to understand how the world could continue to exist without a brother.

Seventeen years ago, John Winchester went home, dropped his bag, and pulled both his boys into a hug. When they asked him what was the matter, he simply shook his head and held them closer because an idea was slowly growing that if he ever lost one son he'd lose the other as well. He dreamt of lost eyes and a desperate face for weeks after.

Yesterday, Azazel died. Sam lived. Dean sold his soul. And deep in the bowels of hell, Alistair crowed with triumph because the Winchesters had lost the battle the moment Dean ensured he would die and Sam would live.

Today, John Winchester stood at the gates of hell with the demon's plans for Sam echoing in his ears and smiled because the Winchesters had won the war the moment Sam became Dean's brother. It had always been about Sam, but fate, destiny, demons, and angels had forgotten that Sam had always been about Dean. And even if Sam let go of Dean, Dean would never let go of him.

Tomorrow, John Winchester will look for Mary and while he's searching maybe he'll find a girl with a bright laugh and lost eyes dancing and playing among the stars with her brother.

Please drop me a note on what you thought of it—praises and critiques. I know I always feel lame for just saying 'good job' or 'bad job' to a fic, but honestly, as a writer, even that is greatly appreciated.

- Nox