CHAPTER ONE
"don't look ahead, there's stormy weather."
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John Winchester ambled up the steps to the rundown and abandoned apartment complex, his long legs stretching over two steps at a time. Above him, a full moon burned brightly, its white rays reflecting off the pitch black harbor water behind him and glittering off the waves. The tide lapped gently against the loading docks, the noise accompanied by the sound of cars gliding against the pavement from further inside the city.
The fog was cold and heavier than usual tonight, and it hung over the harbor in a thick blanket of mist. The frosty, winter night air pushed John's jacket behind him as he finished his climb up the steps, fresh snow crunching beneath his shoes. Small puffs of breath escaped from his mouth as he exhaled, the air around him cold and icy as he moved to wrap his hand around the cool knob of the door.
Giving one last glance behind him before stepping inside the building, he pushed the door open halfway and let his eyes sweep over the inside. He licked his chapped lips and stepped over the threshold, pushing the door open wider for further inspection, the hinges creaking with an eerie squeal in protest. Pale moonlight instantly flooded the room, moonbeams falling over the broken furniture that was scattered across the floor. The place smelt of cigarette smoke, dust, and rotting wood—clearly not the most pleasant smell, but it didn't deter him.
It was still too dark to see clearly, so he moved farther into the living room, unmindful of the shards and bits of broken glass that littered the floor. He went over to the large bay window that overlooked the front of the house and into the harbor. Without further thought, he ripped down the heavy floral drapes, sending dust and snow particles scattering as more moonlight flooded into the room. The plastic pole that the curtains had been hanging on came crashing to the floor along with the curtains, falling to the carpet with a dull thud.
Turning away from the window, John could now better examine the apartment.
The couch to the right side of him was missing some of its cushions, and the brown and green argyle striped fabric was torn and shredded, as if someone had repeatedly taken a knife to it. Across from the couch was an old television set that was lying on its side on the floor, its screen partially smashed in the center and fanning out in spider-webbed cracks, giving it the appearance someone had hit it with a baseball bat. There were old papers and ripped covers from books strewn all across the poorly carpeted floor, accompanied by large shards of glass from broken lamps or vases. The red brick walls looked old and weathered, dust inhabiting every crack and groove in the plaster. To top everything off, a light dusting of snow covered the objects strewn across the room, the snow having been most likely blown in through some broken window.
Beyond the living room lay a small kitchen, its remains much the same as the room before it. The yellow-stained linoleum floor was cracked in places and missing tiles in others. Cabinet doors were wide open while some were hanging limply off their hinges. The refrigerator was missing its freezer door, and the oven stove top next to it was charred black, as if someone had burnt one too many a meal there.
A small, round table rested in the center of the kitchen and was surrounded by chairs that were missing two or more legs, leaving them to lie brokenly on the floor. Cracked china plates and cups had been dumped carelessly in the sink, gold rose petals adorning the rim of the plates and glaring harshly at him in the moonlight. John turned away from the room and began to move up the stairwell, he paused when he caught sight of a long leg peaking out from being the destroyed couch.
He slowly peaked over the ripped cushions and grimaced at the sight before him. It was a woman and her long, blonde hair was a disheveled mess, her white skin marred with long, red lacerations. She was dressed in naked and all bloody and battered and facially deformed and . . . dead. John sighed and shook his head, knowing he was too late.
He'd been on this demon for over three weeks and this woman was the seventh victim so far, each attack more brutal then the next. Frustration ran heavy through his veins and he put a hand to his forehead at his growing migraine. His skull was throbbing, as if something was pounding away inside of it, wanting to be set free. God, he just wanted to draw blood. He wanted the demon to bleed from his scalp until he could bleed no more. He it to explode into a million tiny pieces and never be put back together again.
He wanted Mary.
John's jaw clenched as he turned away from corpse and began to climb up the stairwell, the worn wood creaking beneath his steps. At the top of the stairs, the moonlight shone even more brightly through the broken windows that were in the various rooms. He glanced down the hallway and frowned at how long it was.
As he made his way down the green, carpeted hallway, he briefly glanced into each room as he passed, looking for anything of interest as he moved down the hall. He twirled his large knife loosely in his right hand, always ready for use if he needed it. He doubted anybody was actually here anymore though. The demon had obviously fled and there was no obvious sign of life here.
But as he was about to finally near the end of the long hallway, he happened to notice that one of the many bedroom doors was closed, which he thought was rather odd because the rest were left unhinged or wide open. With a frown he neared the door, the sound of pattering feet from inside the room suddenly meeting his ears. John immediately paused and he frowned, halting his movements and listening intently. He knew he had not just imagined that sound.
Still frowning, he took a tentative step forward. Just as he was about to place his hand over the knob of the closed door, he heard a small and decidedly excited voice from inside.
"Mommy?"
What the—?
The door swung wide open then, hitting the brick wall behind it and bouncing slightly from its momentum. Inside, a little girl stood with an expectant smile on her face, her eyes wide with what John assumed to be hopefulness.
Just as quickly as it had come, however, the little girl's smile vanished, noticing that the person who now stood before her was definitely not who she had been expecting.
John stood tall and looming in the doorway, looking down at the small girl in disbelief. She looked to be only four or five years of age—her tiny, thin frame clad in a short-sleeved, knee-length blue cotton dress with tiny sneakers adorning her feet. She had a mass of long, tangled blonde hair that was falling from a poorly put up ponytail, and a backpack with dirty, mustard yellow straps weighed down heavily upon her small shoulders.
The girl was visibly shaking, either from the cold or because she was frightened out of her mind, he couldn't decipher which. A cold breeze blew in through the open window across the room, and the snow had just begun to fall again as the two stared at each other. Small white flakes flittered in through the window and landed on the floor around them. The room was pale and silent.
The biggest and brightest green eyes John had ever seen stared up at him in an expression that could only be read as confusion, and he hesitantly smiled as he dared to step closer. The girl backed up awkwardly as entered further, her eyes freely roamed up his tall frame while her brows furrowed together.
"Hey," he murmured softly as he bent down in front of the girl, placing his hands on his thighs in front of him and leaning on his haunches. "What's your name, sweetheart?" he asked in a voice as pleasant as he could muster.
John searched the girl's face expectantly as her bright green eyes glittered from under her dark lashes. She drank in his sunken-in eyes that looked almost black in color, and his face that was rough and brawny. He was the largest man she had ever seen-tall and looming and wide like a door.
"What's your name?" he prodded again, his eyes never leaving her face.
The girl in question bit her lip. "Kimberly," she replied shyly, her voice small and so incredibly sweet sounding to John's ears. He hadn't heard a voice like that spoken directly to him in so long, not since Mary. He swallowed and let out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his face.
Kimberly was staring up at him warily now, her head cocked to the side as she watched him, her eyes locking onto his dark orbs as if she were unsure of what to think of the man in front of her.
"Kimberly," John repeated, shifting closer to her. "That's a pretty name." He his lips turned upward when the little girl ducked her head and blushed, the moonlight illuminating the pink that crept up her cheeks, "I'm John."
After a moment, the girl's head rose and her eyes met his again. She stared at him with interest, as if he were a puzzle she couldn't quite piece together. They looked at each other evenly for several seconds, neither one blinking until suddenly, the little girl spoke, leaning in close as if she were whispering to him a deep, dark secret.
"Why are you so big?" she whispered timidly, afraid that she might offend him with her question, but unable to contain her curiosity nonetheless.
John let a smile spread over his features, his dark eyes dancing with laughter and genuine amusement of the likes he hadn't felt in quite a while. He huffed a laugh and his eyes darted to the ceiling before returning to meet hers, "Why are you so small?" he asked.
The girl seemed thoughtful as she pondered this. "I don't know," she replied quietly, the end of her sentence fading as she waited his reply.
But instead of replying, he simply stared at her with interest, his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed. "Where's your mommy?" he asked her, his tone devoid of emotion. The girl had obviously been expecting her when he had arrived and he had no doubt that the woman downstairs was her parent.
Kimberly shrugged, one of the straps from her backpack sliding off her shoulder. "I don't know," she replied sadly, her brows forming a crease between her eyes and her gaze falling to the carpet. "She told me to wait here until she got back." Her small voice was a mere whisper when she spoke, and she balled her tiny hand into a fist, moving to tiredly rub her eyes with it. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.
"How long have you been here?" he asked, watching her closely.
The girl lowered her gaze and counted on her fingers. "Two days," she replied after a moment of careful consideration.
John processed this information as he watched her with interest, his eyes narrowed into slits as he sized her up. The girl obviously hadn't realized it yet, but her mother was nothing but a blood stain now. Running his tongue along the inside of his mouth, John's eyes wandered briefly around the room, taking note of the twin bed pushed up against the wall, and the random cardboard boxes that had been dumped in the opposite corner of the room.
His eyes eventually wandered back to Kimberly. "Who's that?" He motioned with his hand towards the stuffed object that was clutched in her hand.
Instinctively, Kimberly's palm curled around the object's arm, tightening her grasp. "Oh . . . this is Teddy," she said, slowly finding her voice. "My . . . my daddy got him for me for Christmas before he left." John watched as she turned her head downward to look at the bear with adoration, as if it were some sort of angel sent by God.
Watching the seriousness of the little girl's face as she looked at the bear, John had to stop the urge to smile again. He managed to contain himself and instead pressed his lips together as he watched her pat the bear's head lovingly. Turning her own head to face John, she took notice of the peculiar look on his face and quickly spoke.
"Don't worry," she began, "Teddy likes meeting new friends," she offered reassuringly, but also carefully and slowly, as if she were picking out her words with the utmost caution so as not to offend him.
She bit her lip shyly as looked up at him and again they stared at each other for a few more seconds, silently contemplating each other and each other's possible motives. John could not help but take note that girl didn't seem afraid of him. Sure, she was apprehensive and maybe a little frightened, but that was natural for a child. In truth though, he was just intrigued by the way she looked at him. She held his gaze longer than most adults would, yet she still was shy enough to look away when she was embarrassed.
As John watched her, he noticed that her eyes had shifted downwards towards his right hand—the hand that was currently holding his knife. Kimberly stared sideways at it, watching it as if it were a deadly viper that could strike at any moment. She took a tentative step backwards.
He dropped his eyes down to his hand and stared at the knife, watching as the moonlight pouring in through the window ricocheted off the blade and made it gleam fiercely. For a moment, he simply stared at it before flipping it in his hand in one swift motion, making Kimberly jump, and then pocketed it. The girl's attention immediately returning to his face.
She swallowed thickly, her eyes still locked onto the spot where his knife had disappeared. "Do—do you know when my mommy is coming home?" Her small voice was barely audible and her large eyes were filled with hopefulness. "She promised me she'd come back soon," she added in quiet whisper, speaking half to him and half to herself.
He sighed and Kimberly's eyes shifted back up towards him at the sound. Shifting on his haunches, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip and moved closer to the girl, his hands on his thighs. "I don't think . . . I don't think your mommy is going to be here for a while."
Kimberly's hopeful expression vanished and her small shoulders sagged dejectedly, Teddy falling limply at her side. "Oh." Her brows scrunched together in confusion as if she didn't understand what had just been said. She lowered her head from his gaze then and stared at the carpet. John watched as her eyelashes fluttered wildly against her pale, dirt-stained cheeks. She looked like she was about to cry.
Damn it, John thought exasperatedly. Fearing that she would burst into tears or screams or throwing some sort of temper tantrum, he quickly shifted again and leaned in closer, dipping his head low so he could look up at her face that she had bowed from his gaze.
"Hey," he whispered quickly, "are you hungry?" he asked, searching her eyes closely.
Her head snapped up immediately and her green eyes brightened in what he assumed was surprise.
Thank God, he nodded once and rose to his feet, his knees popping in the process. "Come on." He motioned for Kimberly to follow him as he turned away from her and opened the door. When he didn't hear any movement behind him, he frowned, turning back to face Kimberly, only to see that she hadn't moved. He gave her a quizzical look and she bit her lip.
"Mommy said I ha—have to stay in here." She looked up at John and winced as if she were expecting him to berate her or start yelling.
Instead, he simply frowned. "You know," he began, opening the door wider and raising his brows as he glanced out into the empty hallway, "if you don't eat you'll starve." He turned back to look pointedly at her.
The girl frowned and look towards Teddy as if he'd have an answer for her. She then slowly turned her head to look up at John still standing in the doorway, "Teddy is kind of hungry," she offered, pulling her bear to her chest and clutching it against her.
John smirked and made a motion with his head for her to follow him once again. She certainly couldn't stay here, that was simply out of the question, so he silently decided to drop her off at the police station. They could take her off his hands and he would be back to his boys in time for breakfast. He watched Kimberly study him, her head cocked to the side in a speculative manner before she took a small step forward, her teddy clutched tight to her chest.
When she was close enough, John easily hoisted her light-as-a-feather body up off the ground and into his arms, holding her against his chest while her head naturally found rest on his shoulder. Making a conscious effort to make sure she wouldn't see her mother's bloody form, John kept his body hunched over slightly and once they reached the bottom of the stairs, he opened the apartment door and was instantly met with a cool blast of winter air, his dark hair fluttering around his face. He adjusted Kimberly so that her legs dangled over his abdomen and his arm was wrapped tightly under her knees, leaving her to sit on his forearm.
She pressed her lips together and awkwardly held her bear in her lap as the man holding her strode out of the apartment and into the frigid air, snow shifting beneath his shoes. Kimberly was immediately mesmerized by the winter wonderland around them, and despite her initial hesitation, started to clap her hands in delight, clutching her bear closer to her as she giggled excitedly. "Do you see all this snow, Mr. John?" she asked eagerly, staring at the white powder in amazement. "I really like it," she gushed.
John didn't respond, and instead, tightened his grasp around her as his shoes met the slick and icy pavement.
"Where are all the polar bears, Mr. John?" came Kimberly's sudden, inquiring voice. "My mommy read me a book that said polar bears live in the snow," she explained, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes as she studied John carefully from up close. She let her eyes openly roam over his handsome face as she talked. "Are they all sleeping in their igloos?"
He didn't answer her once again, thinking that maybe if he didn't she would stop asking all these nonsensical questions. Instead, he continued walking, his eyes darting left and right, making sure that he wasn't being watched. John's steps involuntarily quickened at he thought and his eyes flickered back and forth in quiet paranoia. The demon could be anywhere, waiting to strike and John's free hand twitched for the knife hanging from his side.
"You're so strong," Kimberly commented, breaking John out of his whirlwind of thoughts. Her small hand moved to encompass his upper arm, but she quickly discovered that she couldn't even wrap her fingers around it.
Showing no outwards signs of even acknowledging the fact that she had spoken, he set her on the ground once the two of them had reached the car and then proceeded to brush the snow off the windshield. Kimberly's legs wobbled slightly and she shifted uncomfortably as water seeped through the soles of her sneakers.
Once John had cleared all the windows of snow and ice, he bent down to remove her backpack, pushing the heavy object off her shoulders as Kimberly's teeth began to chatter. "It's cold," she whispered, studying John's eyes as he slid her backpack off her shoulders and opened the car door, chucking the item into the backseat.
He placed his hands under her arms and then lifted her into the passenger seat, gently dropping her into it. Placing his hands on the seat, he leaned over her so he could press the button on the driver's side door to pop open the trunk. Once it opened, he went over to the back of the car and pushed aside random objects until he found what he was looking for. When he returned, he dropped the object into her lap. It was a blanket.
He put his hand on the top of the car to support his weight, the door behind his back, and leaned down to look at her. "You alright?" he questioned, raising his brows.
Kimberly situated the oversized blanket so it was draped over her legs and then pulled it up to her chin. "Yes," she replied after a moment. "Thank you, Mr. John," she said bashfully, snuggling farther into the blanket and turning a shade of pink. He gave her a small smile and nodded, shutting the door.
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ps. I had this story posted about a month ago, but instead of John finding the girl it was Dean. In the end, I decided to take the story down and make it into a romance. Anyways, thanks so much for reading! Review, please!