DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters depicted here except for those not in the show. All rights go to Eric Kripke and the CW. I am merely a simple author who chooses to make some changes to an already-amazing story.

Prologue: Beginnings

"Everything's going to change now, isn't it?" - The Goblet of Fire

November 2, 1983 - Lawrence, Kansas

The night of their greatest tragedy was like any other cold November night. No leaves were on the large tree, whose branches whipped back and forth in the chill wind that gusted around the quiet suburban house in Lawrence, Kansas. Darkness encompassed the landscape in the shadow of midnight, left unbroken by the lack of stars in the sky - the only indicator that not all was right in this home.

The house belonged to John and Mary Winchester, a local couple who were completely devoted to each other and their children. John was a mechanic at a garage in town while Mary stayed at home with the kids. They were the typical, happy suburbanite family, perfectly content to stay in their own little corner of the world and let things pass them by.

They had no way of knowing that, in a few hours time, the perfect bubble that they were living in would burst, leaving pain and hardship in its wake.

At the moment, however, Mary Campbell Winchester had nothing more on her mind than getting her children to bed. Lithe and beautiful with blonde curls, the tired mother carried her oldest son Dean into a dark room at the end of the house. She herself was dressed in a white nightgown, more than ready to get to sleep; while she loved her children dearly, they were quite a handful even for her and she needed a little time to rest and recharge. "Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother," she said, flipping on a switch to reveal a nursery. It was rather plain by normal American standards, but the baby in the crib by the window - her youngest, Sam - didn't seem to mind in the slightest. He was looking at his mother and brother, big green eyes gazing at them with interest.

Mary set the squirming four-year-old down by the crib, watching with pride and motherly love as he leaned over the crib rail and kissed his baby brother on the forehead. "'Night, Sam," he said, his high-pitched voice still carrying a bit of a lisp. She smiled at the display of affection and joined her son by the crib side.

"Good night, love," she murmured to her baby, brushing his downy hair back and pressing her lips against his smooth skin.

"Hey, Dean."

Mary straightened and turned at the sound of her husband entering the room. The tall man was also dressed for bed, with sweatpants and an old USMC t-shirt, and carrying a little girl in his arms. "Daddy!" Dean cried with delight and raced over to his father just as he was setting the girl down.

"Hey, buddy," he said with a smile and scooped his oldest son up. Dean was the spitting image of John, all except for his blonde hair, and Mary grinned at the thought of how handsome Dean would be when he grew up - no doubt he'd have girls crawling all over him, just like his old man.

A tugging on the hem of her nightgown made her look down at her three-year-old daughter, Alex. She was an adorable little thing, and John had made it a habit of pointing out how she looked just like Mary, even as a toddler. "Mommy? Can I say g'night to Sammy, too?" she asked, her lips in a pout.

Mary smiled fondly at her and picked her up. "Of course, sweetie," she said, leaning her over the edge of the crib.

The little girl quickly pecked her brother's cheek and ruffled his hair, something she'd picked up from her dad. "Night-night, Sammy," she whispered as if afraid she might wake him, even though he was giving her what might have been a gummy grin; out of the two, Alex had always been Sam's favorite. Mary lifted her up from the crib railing and held her close, the child's thin arms wrapping quickly around her shoulders.

"So what do you think?" John asked his oldest kids. "You two think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?"

Dean laughed and shook his head at his father's silliness. "No, Daddy."

"'Course not," Alex said, looking serious like she usually did. "He's too little, Daddy. He'd get hurt."

John chuckled. "I was joking, Alex," he informed her. "We'll just have to teach him when he's older and bigger."

Mary started out of the room carrying the girl in her arms, passing her husband on the way. "I can put her to bed," she told him. "You got him?"

"I got him," John reassured her, hugging Dean protectively. He turned to leave, giving his youngest son one last affectionate gaze. "Sweet dreams, Sam," he said and carried Dean out of the room, turning off the lights as he went.

In the wooden crib by the window, Sam watched his parents and siblings leave, gurgling contentedly and trying to reach his toes. For a few moments, everything in the room was quiet and still, almost radiating peace from within its walls. As the six-month-old turned his gaze upward, though, the baseball-themed mobile began to spin on its own. The clock on the far wall gave a few more ticks before stopping completely, and the moon-shaped night light flickered in the dark.

"There we go, all tucked in," Mary sighed as she sat down on the edge of Alex's bed. "You comfy-cozy there, Lexi?" The little girl didn't answer right away. She stared down at the blankets on her bed, looking troubled, which was unusual for her. "Lex? Baby, what's wrong?" Mary asked, concerned now; her daughter may be too serious for her own good sometimes but she had never been troubled like this before.

"Mommy?" she asked, looking up at her mother, and Mary was startled to see tears in her pretty green eyes. "You know De and I love you a lot, right? Sammy too, even though he's little."

"Of course I do, Lexi," she said. "What's this about?"

The little girl shrugged. "I dunno," she said. "Just a feeling that I won't get to tell you again."

Mary's heart broke to see her only daughter fighting back tears and she moved in closer. "Oh, sweetheart, of course you will," she said. "You'll get to tell me tomorrow night, and the next day, and any day you want."

"No I won't!" she said, starting to panic. "I won't get to tell you tomorrow or ever again!" Without losing another moment, the three-year-old pushed back her sheets and rushed towards her mother, hugging her tightly around the waist and burying her face in Mary's shoulder.

"Lexi, it's okay, it's alright, I'm right here," soothed Mary, attempting to calm her amidst the dread she was starting to feel.

"Don't go into Sammy's room alone tonight!" she warned, her voice choked with tears. "Please, Mommy, get Daddy to go with you or something but don't go in alone!"

"Baby, you're not making any sense." A horrible thought crossed Mary's mind in that instant. "Is there something in Sammy's room?"

"Not yet," she admitted, "but there will be soon. Promise me you won't go alone, Mommy. Please."

Mary kissed her daughter's forehead. "Alright, I promise. I won't go into the room unless your father is with me." She felt her relax a little, but tears still coursed down the little girl's cheeks, her big green eyes wide with terror as she pulled back from her mother. Mary wiped away the salty liquid from her face. "Hey, sweetie, it's alright," she soothed. "Everything's going to be fine, you'll see. Now, how about you try to get some sleep?" Reluctantly, Alex allowed herself to be peeled off of her mother and laid down in her bed. Mary tucked her in again and kissed her forehead once more. "Good night, Alex. I love you."

"Love you too, Mommy," said the tiny girl, and Mary got up from the bed and walked towards her own room. With a troubled sigh, she entered the master bedroom that she and her husband shared and walked towards her side of the bed.

"Just when I was about to send out a search party," joked John, already under the warm covers. "Trouble getting Alex to sleep?

"Yeah," she said briefly, crawling in beside him.

"Huh, that's weird. She usually goes to bed no fuss."

"I know." She paused, wondering if she should bring this up with her husband. "John, I think she was scared."

"Well, every kid gets scared, Mary. It's part of being a kid."

"No, I mean . . . I think she was scared for me."

That caught John's attention. He turned over towards his wife and looked at her in concern. "For you?"

She nodded, her lips pressing together as she remembered the terror in her daughter's face as she hugged her close. "She made me promise not to go into Sammy's room alone tonight. She just kept repeating over and over not to go in by myself, saying that something bad was going to happen."

"Did she say what that bad thing would be?"

"No, but she told me that she, Dean, and Sammy all loved me, and that she was afraid she wouldn't get to say it again."

John moved in closer to her and hugged her protectively to him so that her head was against his chest. The steady beating of his heart calmed her as she snuggled in as close as she could get, taking comfort from his presence. "I'm sure she was just remembering some nightmare she had," he said. "There's nothing to worry about."

"But what if there is?" she asked. "I've never seen her so frightened before, John, not even when she and Dean accidentally watched that horror movie. Our children could be in danger."

She felt his lips press against her head, his hand smoothing her blonde curls. "Not a chance," he murmured. "As long as I'm here, I'll protect you and the kids with my life. I promise."

She sighed, feeling all tension leave her body, and wrapped her arms around him. The two stayed like that for a few more moments until Mary yawned. "Try to get some sleep," John whispered. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Okay," answered Mary as she released her husband and, sharing a quick kiss with him, laid down, pulling the covers up to her shoulders.

"Mary?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

She rolled over just enough to see him and smiled. "I love you, too, John."

Turning over again, she was just dropping off into the darkness of sleep when she heard him murmur "Sweet dreams." Then she allowed it to take her over, letting all of her worries wash away for a while.

On the night table next to the bed, the lights on the baby monitor began to flicker, strange noises coming out of the speaker. It wasn't loud, but it was enough to wake Mary from her semi-peaceful sleep. She switched on the light next to her and turned her head. "John?" she asked, but received no reply. Looking back over her shoulder, she realized that the bed next to her was empty. Her daughter's warning from earlier flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away as she got up to check on Sam. Walking down the hall, she peered cautiously into the nursery, her heart skipping a beat when she saw a dark silhouette standing next to the crib. The next moment, however, she relaxed when she realized that the silhouette must belong to her husband. "John? Is he hungry?" she asked.

"Shhh," said the shadow in reply, turning his head towards her.

"All right," she whispered back, then turned away from the nursery, heading towards the bedroom again.

She took a deep breath and willed herself to calm down. She was just jumpy, that's all. Sam was fine. There was nothing to worry about. Again, Alex's frantic warning played through her mind, and again, she pushed it away. Everything's fine, she told herself. You've got to relax.

When she got to the end of the hall, however, she saw something strange. The light by the stairs was flickering on and off, guttering like a candle flame. Frowning, she walked over to it and tapped the bulb a few times until it steadied of its own accord. "Hm . . ." she hummed in confusion to herself. Turning, she saw that there was more flickering light coming from the downstairs, sending a reflection up to the wall of the hallway. Curious now, she started down the stairs to investigate. It's probably nothing, she told herself, but still . . .

Walking down the stairs, she saw that the source of the flickering light was the TV; it looked as though John had fallen asleep in front of it while watching an old war movie. Not exactly uncommon for him - she knew he still had trouble sleeping from his time in the Marines. But if he's down here, then who was in . . . She gasped in realization and, without waiting another moment, raced back up the stairs to the nursery. "Sammy! Sammy!" she called, fear causing her heart to race. She reached the nursery door but stopped short, her eyes wide.

Mary's scream rang through the quiet house, jolting John from his dreams. "Mary?" he asked, fear seizing him. "Mary!" Leaping out of the chair, he rushed upstairs to his wife's aid. His thoughts immediately flew back to what she'd told him before they'd gone to bed, and he ran as fast as he could to the nursery.

"Daddy?" Alex asked, clutching her little stuffed tiger to her chest and standing in the doorway.

"Alex, stay there!" he called back over his shoulder as he dashed past her. He burst through the door of the nursery, frantically searching for his wife. "Mary?" he called, but the room was dark and silent. Noticing that Sam was still awake in his crib, he walked over and pushed down the side, smiling in relief at the baby. "Hey, Sammy. You okay?" he asked.

Sam flailed his arms, gazing up at his father with wide eyes. A drop of something dark landed on the mattress next to him. Frowning, John touched the substance, trying to determine what it was, when two more dripped onto his hand. Blood, he realized with a jolt. But where . . .? His thoughts trailed off as he turned around and looked up - and immediately wished he hadn't. For plastered to the ceiling, her blonde hair splayed out around her face, was Mary, his beautiful, amazing Mary. Her left leg was bent backwards at an awkward angle, and the stomach of her once-white nightgown was ripped and stained with blood. John felt his legs give out underneath him and he collapsed, staring up at his wife. She stared back at him, struggling to even breathe.

"No! Mary!" he screamed, trying to tell himself that it was only a nightmare. He had to be dreaming. This - this couldn't be real.

On the ceiling, Mary burst into flames, the orange tongues of fire licking hungrily at the plaster, devouring anything it touched. John couldn't seem to make anything on his body work, staring frozen at the fire spreading rapidly through the room. Amidst the roaring of the flames, he heard a shrill wail coming from the crib. Sammy! he thought desperately. The realization that his son was in danger made his limbs unfreeze, and getting up, he scooped the baby out of his bed and ran out of the room.

In the hallway, he saw Dean and Alex coming towards him, Alex flat-out running to get to the room. "Mommy!" she shrieked, tears running down her face.

John stopped her before she could get to the nursery. "No, you can't go in there. You have to get out of here."

"But Mommy's still in there!" she said, hardly able to be understood through her sobs.

"Daddy?" Dean asked, his face showing panic and confusion.

"There's no time!" he said, then placed Sam in his brother's arms. "Take your brother and sister outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean! Go!"

"No! Mommy!" Alex screamed again, fighting John to get into the nursery.

"Lix, come on! Daddy said we have to go!" Dean cried, then, holding Sam carefully, used one hand to tug his sister's pajama shirt.

"Daddy, please -" she begged, desperation in her voice.

"Alex, go with your brother. Now!" John commanded, leaving no room for argument. She gave him one last desperate glance before she and Dean ran out of the house.

With his children safely out of the way, he turned back to the nursery. The fire had spread so that it consumed the entire room. He couldn't even see his wife anymore. "Mary!" he screamed again. "No!"

Outside, Dean and Alex ran as fast as they could, turning back to look at the house. The room Sammy had been sleeping in was now gold from the light of the fire. "It's okay, Sammy," Dean heard himself whisper to his baby brother as he stopped in his tracks.

"De, come on!" she yelled at him, still crying. "You have to move!"

Out of nowhere, John appeared beside them, scooping up Dean and Sam as he ran. "I gotcha," he said, dashing over to his daughter. "Alex, move!" The little girl complied and they ran as far as they could just before the fire exploded out the window of the nursery.

The rest of the night was a blur for the little family. The Lawrence Fire Department was on the scene, with firefighters attempting to put out the still-burning house. Paramedics arrived in an ambulance at some point, preparing to check them for injuries. A police officer was waving away curious neighbors, telling them to stay back. Through all the activity, John Winchester and his children sat on the hood of his black Chevy Impala across the street. The firefighters might be able to repair some of the damage the house had suffered during the course of the night, but nothing could fix the gaping hole in the hearts of the family that the death of Mary Winchester had left behind. As Dean and Alex huddled as close as they could to their father, shivering and silent in the cold night air, John cradled his youngest in arms, pressing his lips to Sam's forehead. His eyes, however, were fixed on the house, his mind on revenge. Something had taken his wife from him, and he swore to himself that he would not rest until that thing had been found and destroyed. None on the scene that night could know that the disaster which had torn everything from them would be the start of years of endless training, hunting for Mary Winchester's murderer. They had no idea that in a few years' time, the little family clinging to each other on the hood of the Impala would be even more broken than they already were now, facing hardships no one could have dreamed of.

This was the end of their time as a family, and the beginning of a business that would change their lives forever.

The night of their greatest tragedy was like any other cold November night. It was also the night that started it all.