The Impala trundled into Bobby's junkyard slowly, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. John Winchester sat behind the wheel, his eyes dark and even a little fearful, glancing periodically at the small and grimy DVD carefully placed in the compartment beside him.

His older son, Dean, was nestled comfortably in the passenger seat, his jaw clenched. The nineteen year-old glanced back at the youngest Winchester sprawled across the rear seats, lightly dozing.

Bobby was waiting for them at the front entrance. The man nodded a quick greeting before opening the door behind him and gesturing for the three of them to enter. John gently woke his youngest son and Dean led the way into Bobby's place, the three of them wasting no time before settling themselves in front of Bobby's television set.

Sam sighed in annoyance as the two older men attempted to figure out the inner workings of Bobby's DVD player, eventually shoving his dad aside and inserting the dusty DVD himself. They had found the thing this morning—it had been left for them in front of their motel room. His dad had wanted to throw it out as soon as he set eyes on it, but Sam had convinced the two older Winchesters to keep it, at least until they got around to Bobby's so they could see what was on it. Who knew, it might not even be for them—maybe it was just a crappy old movie.

But Sam could tell there was something different about this little black box. It looked normal enough from the outside, but something drew him to it. He needed to watch it.

"Sammy?"

The fifteen year-old looked back at his older brother and realized the three other men were waiting for him to take a seat. He nodded and went to sit beside Dean on one of Bobby's dilapidated sofas, ready to watch.

Almost immediately, blue letters flashed across the screen. Supernatural. Sam gulped, hesitant of what was to come. The pit of foreboding in his stomach grew.

Lawrence, Kansas.

22 years ago.

Sam shivered involuntarily. Lawrence, Kansas. It was where he had been born. It was where their mother had died in the fire. He glanced at Dean and his father and saw both their eyes go wide. Bobby must have also recognized the significance of the place, for his knuckles gripped the side of his armchair tighter.

Dean watched warily as the screen closed in on what appeared to be a small suburban home, shrouded in the cover of darkness. He saw his father almost choke and realized it was their old home. Where Mom had died.

"Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother," said a soft voice. A lithe blonde woman entered what appeared to be a nursery, a little boy held in one of her arms.

Four gasps were heard simultaneously in the room. "It's Mom!" cried out Dean at the same time John whispered, "Mary."

Sam recognized the woman from the faded black-and-white pictures he had seen. Even though he didn't remember her, the pain in his heart didn't lessen when she appeared on the screen.

The little boy was put down in front of a little baby, his hairs barely beginning to come in. "Night, Sam."

"Is that me?" whispered Sam, glancing at Dean and his father. They didn't answer and no answer was needed for Sam to know that it was true.

"Goodnight, love," sung Mary softly, bending over Sam to kiss his little head.

"Hey, Dean," interrupted a voice. The camera swung over to a young man, smiling happily at his family.

It was clearly a younger version of John Winchester. Sam and Dean looked over to see their father's eyes shining in horror.

"Dad..." whispered Dean warily. "Is this the night when...?"

Their father nodded mutely and Sam stiffened. How was this happening? How was this moment, of all moments, documented on camera? It wasn't possible, not even with all the supernatural beings lurking out there in the dark.

"Daddy!" shouted a four year-old Dean happily, running into his father's arms. John picked him up and smiled.

Sam couldn't help but think that this was the happiest he had seen his father in fifteen years.

"Hey buddy!" greeted John. "So, what do you think? You think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?"

"No, Daddy," laughed Dean, shaking his head.

"No," John agreed.

Mary brushed past John after a few whispered words and the three of them left Sam alone in the nursery.

Sam blinked back the wetness threatening his eyes. They had been such a goddamn perfect family and this was the night it had all gone to hell.

John gulped as he watched the screen, rigid. He knew what was going to happen. The memory was seared into his mind, like a brand.

The clock stopped and the lights flickered suddenly. The mobile above Baby Sam's head began spinning without warning.

Sam didn't want to watch, but he kept his eyes glued to the small television anyway.

The screen transitioned smoothly to show a young John and Mary's bedroom, complete with a picture of the couple and Mary herself lying in bed. Lights flickered and the baby monitor began to sound, as little Sam started wailing. "John?" murmured Mary softly, looking to her right as she was roused from her sleep. Realizing her husband wasn't there, she groggily made the move to go calm her baby.

"No, Mom," whispered Dean. "Don't get up. Please!"

"Mary..." said John softly. His eyes were glistening with pain and maybe a little regret.

Sam looked toward his older brother, feeling a slight pang of guilt. Was it his fault his mother had died? What would have happened if she had never gotten up? Would she still be alive?

Mary made her way to the nursery, and stepped inside the now-lit room to see the shadow of a man standing over Sam's crib. "John, is he hungry?" she asked softly.

"No, Mary...it isn't me," hissed the oldest Winchester, almost as if she could hear him through the television set.

The blonde murmured a quiet, "Alright," and made her way down the hallway in resignation. She paused for a moment as the lightbulb in front of her flickered, illuminating a photo of her and John. She tapped the glass and it stabilized. Mary was seemingly satisfied, until she noticed the flickering in the stairway.

"Mom, just go back to bed," pleaded Dean.

Sam looked over to see the nineteen year-old's eyes begin to water. He hadn't seen Dean cry since...well, he couldn't remember the last time his older brother had cried. Sam didn't even remember their mother and still, he loved her so much. He couldn't imagine what Dean must be feeling right now.

Mary quietly peered down the stairs, her eyes going wide when she saw the television flickering. None other than John himself was sitting fast asleep on the couch, head tilted to the side. Realizing what it meant, Mary quickly rushed toward her baby's nursery.

"Sammy!" she called. "Sammy!"

"I should have been with her," murmured John. He clenched his fists and suddenly punched the table next to him, sending it crashing to the floor. "Dammit, Bobby, I should have been with her!"

Bobby shook his head sadly. "There's nothing you could have done. You know she would have died no matter what, John."

Sam stared blankly at the two men. Was their mother destined to die from the very beginning? He still couldn't shake the feeling that it was because of him.

John jolted awake as he heard his wife's scream. The man stumbled off the couch and bolted up the stairs in a panic. He pushed open the nursery door and stepped in to see nothing but their baby, lying still in his crib. He murmured quiet words to his baby, and reached out toward him.

Sam's father sat on the couch, rigid as they watched the blood drip from the ceiling on to a young John's hand. Sam felt sorry for the man. He could barely watch this himself, how much worse was his dad faring?

John looked up and his breath caught in his throat as he saw his wife pinned to the celing, bleeding through a wound on her stomach. He dropped to the floor in terror, unable to believe what was happening in front of him—his worst nightmare.

Bobby gulped as he watched John and the boys. The oldest Winchester had never revealed many details about Mary's death, but Bobby knew it couldn't have been pretty.

Dean nearly retched as he watched his mother pinned to the ceiling, her limbs askew. He couldn't watch this, but at the same time he couldn't pull his eyes away.

When Mary burst into flames, Sam began wailing in full force, snapping John back to the present. He grabbed his baby and ran out of the room, determined to protect his family from whatever horror had taken his wife. He handed Sammy to Dean, who had woken up and ordered the boy to take his brother outside.

Dean ran without hesitation, the fear clear in his eyes. John rushed back into the flames, resolute and unwavering.

"Thanks, Dean," murmured Sam. He hadn't known that Dean had carried him out of the inferno. Even then, his big brother had looked out for him.

Dean nodded, smiling softly at Sam before turning back to the screen and biting his lip.

"It's okay, Sammy," whispered Dean, still running from the blazing mess behind them. John burst out of the house at that moment, scooping up Sam and Dean and running just as the windows exploded and sparks flew.

"God..." said Bobby quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

Firefighters had pulled up to the scene, and the street was a blur of lights and noise. In the midst of it all, John sat with Dean on the hood of the Impala, Sam clutched tightly to his chest. He looked up, his eyes dark, silently swearing to avenge his wife.

The screen went black.

"Why...how...this isn't possible," mumbled Sam, glancing at the others. "It's not..."

"You're right," sighed his father. "But it's the truth. Every single word, ever single scene in this video happened fifteen years ago."

There was a pregnant pause before Dean broke the silence. "I shouldn't have let Mom go into that room," he hissed angrily. "I should have gotten her and ran."

"Me too, Dean," murmured John. "I should have done something."

Sam gulped, afraid to mouth his opinion. It had been his nursery. He had been the one crying.

"Stop blaming yourselves, idjits!" grumbled Bobby. "None of you could have known what would happen. It's not your fault, do you hear me?"

Dean nodded mutely and opened his mouth to speak, but not before the screen came back to life, music blaring through the television set.

"Well, would ya look at that," mused Bobby, turning to face the three of them.

Sam swallowed back bile. "There's more."