Chapter Title: We're Coming
Chapter Number: 4/?
Word Count: 6,562 words / 22,331 total
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language and character death : (
Characters: John Winchester, Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mike Guenther, Kate Guenther, and Missouri Moseley.
Pairing: None
Spoilers: General spoilers for episodes up to the first episode of season two (not only in this chapter, for all of it).
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize from the show. I also don't own Mike and Kate Guenther. If you don't know who they are; they really are neighbors of John and Mary Winchester. John writes about them in the journal that serves as Dean and Sam's reference guide for fighting demons.
Important Note: Well, I hope all of you like this chapter. It took me longer to write than normal because I've had a million papers and midterms to write and prepare for and on top of all of that, I managed to hurt myself. Don't ask me how; it just happened. To make up for the longer wait, this chapter is slightly longer and has way more action in it then the previous chapters : )
Chapter Four
December 17, 1983
John teetered on the edge of the steps, trying to decide if he wanted to take that first step forward to go into the house. He wasn't sure why he was doing this. He should be back at the house with Dean and Sammy. It was only one more. He had been going to psychics lately; to see if they could explain what had happened. It wasn't getting him very far and he wasn't learning anything he hadn't picked up from the books he had bought from the store. All of the psychics he had been to so far were total scams. They never told the people anything new; they just told them what they had said using different words. Either that or they said something so broad then it had to be true. This one wouldn't be any different. He should just turn around and head back to his car.
John took a deep breath and made to turn around, but took a step forward instead. One more wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like this, he glances down at the torn off piece of paper that he's holding in his left hand, Missouri Moseley would dampen his spirit even more by turning out to be another fraud. He had already assumed as much when he started out his journey of trying to find out about that night from psychics. If it had been two months ago, he would have laughed at the idea of himself going to talk to psychics about anything. Let alone going to talk to someone about supernatural beings. If had been two months earlier, he wouldn't have even let any of this come to the forefront of his mind.
The man reached his hand out to turn the knob, but before his hand had even touched the cool metal the door swung open to reveal a young African American woman with warm brown eyes and an even warmer smile.
"Well?" she was staring expectantly at him, "Are you going to stand around all day or are you going to come inside?" Her voice was had a slightly higher pitch then what he had expected from the woman. All the other psychics he had visited lately had adopted the television psychic persona. They all had deep, dream like voices that made him want to roll his eyes at their obvious phoniness. However, she simply hurried him inside and told him to not mind the mess—he really didn't know what mess she was referring to, the house was spotless—as if she invited him over for tea at least once a week.
Missouri seated herself down on the couch in her living room and motioned for him to take a seat across from her. John didn't move. He was frozen in place as he studied the woman. He still wasn't sure what to make of her. So far, she was different the others. A definite sign in John's book that she might be different, but that still didn't mean she was the real deal. Then again, he could spend years searching for an actual psychic and that wasn't time he actually had.
"Now, Mr. Winchester," she smiled at his obvious shock from her knowing his name without him actually saying it, "We don't have all day. So, please take a seat."
John moved forward and took his seat in the chair opposite of her. His hands ran down the length of his thighs than back up. He repeated the action a few more times before Missouri cleared her throat and he opted for clasping his hands together to stop his nervous habits. He had gone to several psychics the past week—all of which weren't even close to being the real thing—but each time he went to a new one he wasn't sure how or where he should start. It was like talking with a shrink; only the psychics wouldn't think him absolutely crazy if he randomly brought up monsters and demons. Then there was the fact that a shrink was a complete stranger; and although Missouri was as well, John felt he had known her all of his life.
Missouri shifted slightly in her seat. "The fire. Let's start with that." She said.
And John did just that. He told her everything he could remember form November second. He left nothing out and made sure to tell her everything about all of his insane theories of what had happened that night. Missouri would make the odd comment every now and then, but for the most part she stayed silent while he talked. It felt like forever between the time he finally stopped talking and when she finally said something.
"I believe you." Was all she said, but he immediately felt relieved as soon as the words were said.
"You, what?" John was so use to getting looked at like he was crazy or getting asked if he wanted to talk to someone that professionally equipped to handle someone like him. The psychics he had gone to before Missouri, he had left before actually talking to them himself. He had listened in on their sessions with their other clients and had easily picked up on how phony they were. After realizing this, he simply left them. Missouri was different. Missouri was the real thing. And Missouri was staring at him like he was a complete idiot for making her repeat herself.
"I. Believe. You." Missouri said slowly, which only added to the look she gave him for thinking he was a complete moron.
John gawked at her for a moment before he shook his head and began to fidget with his pants and hands once more. She was still watching him and if it wasn't for the seriousness of the visit, he was sure she would have started laughing at his actions. He wasn't sure why, but he found this reassuring. Not only was she the first person who didn't look at him like he was insane, but she was now the only person who tried to act like a normal person around him.
"You do?" John asked once more, trying to make sure he wasn't imagining the entire conversation between the two of them.
Missouri reached out and grabbed onto John's hands, dragging them forward until John was forced to lean towards her as well. She was staring directly into his eyes in what John thought was an attempt to get him to understand she wasn't joking around with him.
"John. All that research you were doing, it was all true. Well, maybe not that particular book, but demons they are real. They do exist." Missouri unclasped her hands from John's to instead cup both of his cheeks.
John gave a slow nod, not sure what else to do. All his mind could think about at that point was that he had been right, or at least Missouri believed that he was. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this any longer. It wasn't like he uncovered some family secret or even what had really happened to Mary. Demons were real. The things that plagued his nightmares as a child weren't just figments of a too active imagination. They really existed.
"So, what happened to Mary, it was a demon?" John asked.
"I believe so." Missouri dropped her hands from John's face and grabbed onto his hands once more.
"What kind?" John was eager to find out anything on the monster that killed his wife, even if it was a just a small detail of the demon. He wanted to know anything and everything that Missouri knew about it.
"I don't know." Missouri watched as John's face fell significantly, "I would need to go over to your house to get a good enough reading on it."
And just like that, John's mood did a one-eighty. If that was all she wanted to do to get the reading she needed then he could do that. John jumped up from his seat, made plans for her to visit his home, and then left to back to Mike and Kate's house. He only stayed there long enough for him and the boys to eat lunch before he gathered the two up in the car and left to go back to Missouri's house. He didn't know why, but he wanted her to meet her.
Missouri immediately opened the door and took Sam from his arms, as if she had known Sam from the day he was born. Dean latched himself onto John's leg and stayed there for the first fifteen minutes of the time they spent in the living room of Missouri's house. After that time was up, Dean slowly began to open up to the woman and after a while he even began talking to her. It didn't take him much longer to begin talking to her like he normally would with Mary when she was still alive.
December 20, 1983 at Kate and Mike's house
Castiel glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the closed window across the room from himself. He watched as a car drove down the street and stopped in front of his charges old home. He knew today very well, had already been told what was to happen today. He knew exactly who was in that car and what they were doing there so he wasn't surprised when Missouri Moseley and John Winchester stepped out of the black Impala. They both stopped and stared up at the almost completely ruined house before they made the conscious effort to walk up the driveway to the front door. He watched as John hesitated in front of the door like he now did every time he went back to his home before he opened the door and walked inside.
When the two were inside, Castiel turned his attention to the two sleeping boys in the room with him. Dean was asleep in the crib, his tiny body curled around Sam in protective embrace, but he was beginning to stir. With each new clench of his fingers or twist of his arms, he came that much closer to waking up; which was definitely a problem. Castiel walked to the edge of the bed and crouched down into a kneeling position just as Dean awoke and sat up next to Sam. He gave Dean a small smile of reassurance when the boy finally faced him, but it didn't keep the look of pure shock from spreading across Dean's face.
"Who're you?" Dean quietly asked, already suspicious of the male kneeling in front of him. It had been three days since he had started talking again. Anything he did say came in short two to three word sentences, and most of it was only directed at his father. He still wasn't up for talking to Kate or Mike, but the stranger in the house seemed oddly safe. It was much like the same feeling he had when he first talked to Missouri.
"I am Castiel." He spoke in the same tone he would use when speaking to an adult, calm and collected with little to no emotion, "I need you to go back to sleep, Dean."
Dean didn't even register that it might have been odd this man to know his name when they had never met before. He didn't focus on that; he had already begun to remember something his mother had told him when she was still alive. She had tucked him in at night with the same words and had told him each night of stories that made it easier for him to fall asleep at night.
"Castiel? Like the angel." Mary had told him each night of the angel of that day. It was to make sure Dean knew that there was always someone watching over him, even when Mary and John were sound asleep in the next room.
"Yes, like the angel." Castiel nodded at the young boy sitting before him, "Now, you really must go back to sleep."
"I'm not tired." Dean said, his father's stubborn nature already beginning to show itself in the boy.
Castiel let an amused smile grace his features as he bowed his head in an attempt to hide it. He lifted his head as soon as it vanished from his face. He reached out and patted the small spot on the bed beside Dean, "Lay down under the covers and I shall help you."
Dean eyed Castiel suspiciously, but did as he was told. He slipped under the covers, slapped his hands down on the bed beside his tiny frame, and waited expectantly. Castiel placed his forefinger and middle finger lightly against the center of Dean's forehead. It took only a second for Dean's eyes to flutter shut as the boy fell into a very deep slumber. One that Castiel knew would keep him from waking up during the events of the day. He quickly reached over and placed his fingers on Sam's forehead as well, putting him into an even deeper slumber.
Castiel stood up from his kneeling position beside the crib and stood in the middle of the room. He undoubtedly looked awkward standing there or at least out of place, but he had to be there. He had to wait for John to get home later that morning to find had—will—happen that day. He could already sense the approach of the monster. The lights had begun to flicker almost as soon as he stood up. He could also feel and see the sky darken into what was undoubtedly an oncoming storm caused by the demon that would be coming through the front door at any moment, hoping to get to the boys asleep in the makeshift nursery. Of course, he wouldn't let it.
Castiel heard the door slam open as it entered the home of the Guenther's. He could hear the scream come from the other room, but he did nothing to help. He was there to protect and watch over the boys, nothing more. Kate Guenther was meant to die that day. Zachariah had made that very clear before he had let Castiel leave. He wasn't to do anything to prevent Kate's death. If she didn't die, John wouldn't leave Lawrence and if John didn't leave Lawrence than nothing would be right. John had to leave Lawrence.
Another scream echoed throughout the usually quiet house. The house was back to its normal quiet a moment later when the screaming suddenly stopped, causing Castiel's gaze to dart to the door and remain there for the longest time. He wasn't sure how much time had passed between the sudden stop of the screaming and the moment when the handle slapped down on his side of the door. Castiel didn't hesitate. He raised his hand and the second the door swung open he let a blast knock the demon backwards, right into the table and couch that John Winchester had been using as his bed for the past few months.
December 20, 1983 at John's home
John took in a deep breath the moment he planted his feet down on the wood floor of his former home. After all this time; it still didn't smell like the home he knew. It was frustrating to think about, but that wasn't why he was actually here this time. He wasn't here to remember all the things that had happened in that house or to find things that had survived the fire. He was there for Missouri. She had needed to see his home before she could even attempt to figure out who or what had done this. John kept his eyes trained on the woman, no longer sure of what he should say or do under the circumstances.
Missouri was walking cautiously through the living room with her eyes tightly shut. He wasn't sure what she was looking for or if he even wanted to know when she found it. All he knew was that even if he didn't want to know who or what had done this to Mary, he still needed to find out. He was tired of Mike and Kate telling him he'd get through this quicker if he stopped dwelling on who had caused the fire, and instead focused on grieving. No reason they told him made sense and the words they said to try and console him only frustrated him until he couldn't talk to them anymore. Missouri Moseley was the only person that hadn't shrugged him off as just a distraught widower and because of that he had decided to give her a shot.
Their first conversation hadn't gone exactly as he thought it might. He hadn't expected her to come right out and tell him that there really were such things as demons and ghosts in the world. Well, ghosts he could understand. He doubted there wasn't a psychic alive, fake or real, that didn't believe in actual ghosts, but demons; as in black smoke, demonic possession, and evil deals demons? She had assured him that they were in fact real, but what demon had attacked his family she wouldn't be sure of without coming to his home. Which was why they were there now; walking around the living room and waiting for her to get a sense of what had been here on November second.
"Oh yes; there was definitely something evil here that night." Missouri whispered; her voice almost too quiet for John to catch completely. She turned around and opened her eyes to once again look at him, "Where did it happen?"
"Upstairs. In the nursery." John's gaze searched for the stairs before he turned around and walked towards them, but he hesitated at the bottom step. Every time he had gone into his home previously he had made a point to stay clear of the upstairs. He still wasn't sure if he'd be able to go into the room where Mary had died. He didn't even want to get near the room, but that's where Missouri needed to be to get the best reading of whatever had done this to his family.
"Well, come on then." Missouri grabbed him by the arm and led him up the stairs. When they reached the top she turned to the left without needing him to tell her where exactly the nursery was. She let go of his arm and slowly opened the door to the room. She paused before she stepped inside Sam's room; the essence of whatever demon, or whatever, that had come to his home that night seemed to overtake her. John stepped closer to the door, but he didn't budge after that. He opted to stay out of the room and instead balled his hands into the fabric of his coat pockets as he watched her carefully.
Missouri took a shaky step towards the crib and reached out to grab onto what was left of the railing. She looked down at the spot where she knew that little Sam had been sleeping that night. She could sense the evil in the room; could sense the demon, but she didn't know what kind it could be. She couldn't even give the man a guess as to what it could be. Missouri turned around to face John who was still standing patiently in the door frame, his eyes broadcasting the fear he felt to her without her needing to ask.
"I can feel an echo of it John. It's a horrible presence." Missouri said as calmly as she could, which wasn't all that calm when she thought about it. Her voice was shaking as bad as her hands were. She knew it was doing nothing to sooth the man still standing in the door way; to see her shaking as badly as she was, but she couldn't help herself.
"What is it?" John asked.
"I… I don't know, John. All I can tell you is that it's evil. Pure evil." Missouri shook as she spoke, but she managed to continue, "I've never encountered anything like it. It's so powerful..."
Missouri's eyes snapped shut. Her hands tightened painfully around the burnt wood that was left of the crib; it almost crumbling from the pressure her small hands made. John watched as her breathing began to come to her in short waves. She was hyperventilating; only she didn't seem to be affected by it at all. Instead she raised a shaky hand and pointed towards John; past John, to the stairs behind him. All of a sudden, it all just stopped. The shaking and the hyperventilating; she was standing before him as if all of it hadn't been happening. She opened her eyes wide to stare at him.
"John. The basement." Missouri said in an eerily calm voice as she continued to point to the stairs.
John didn't wait for an explanation. He turned quickly and ran towards the stairs, taking them three at a time until he got to the first floor of his home. A turn to the right and a short dash to the kitchen had him standing in front of the door that led to the room she wanted him to go into. He wasn't sure what he'd find there, but he wasn't about to wait. He swung the door open and took those stairs two at a time until his feet were firmly planted on the dirty floor. They had only used the room for storage when Mary was alive and even then they never put more than a few boxes down there.
John took a few slow steps forward. His gaze traveled around the room, searching for anything that would give him a clue as to what Missouri had witnessed or sensed while she was upstairs in Sam's room. He knew as soon as his eyes landed on it what it was. On the wall, in what he could only assume was blood-Mary's blood?—was the words We're coming like she had seen in her vision the first day he had walked into her home to speak with her about what he had spoken to every psychic before her. Only there were three more words written on the wall beside them; words she hadn't seen in her vision. We're coming for the children.
John stumbled backwards a few steps. He caught his balance and before he had time to think about it any longer; he darted back up the stairs, nearly knocking Missouri down in the process. He didn't bother with an explanation. He bolted out of his old home and ran across the street to Kate and Mike's house. The only time he paused on the porch in front of the door. That morning he had made sure to close it before he left and he knew Kate and Mike never left it open unless they were planning on going somewhere right away. He couldn't remember them making any plans that day, but he was now hoping that they had and forgot to tell him about it. The door was slightly ajar and he didn't want to step inside. He was afraid of what he'd find after reading that message on the wall.
A hand grabbed a hold of his arm. John jumped slightly at the sudden contact until he realized it was only Missouri, who was out of breath after trying to keep up with him. She was staring up at him through wide eyes, silently and politely asking him what the hell was going on. He didn't answer. Instead, he reached out and pushed the front door of the place he had lived in since Mary's death open. He took the first step inside and froze at the sight before him.
Blood. Everywhere. On the walls and the floor. It coated the carpet and covered the couch. John registered the intake of breath from the woman behind him as she let the scene wash over her, but he didn't move to console her. His gaze had landed on the cause of the all the blood. Kate Guenther. She was on the floor; a huge gash in her neck and some more shallow wounds scattered all over her body. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling in horror. He doubted he'd ever be able to get the image out of his mind.
"John. The boys. You have to get them and get out of here." Missouri pushed on his upper body until he finally registered what she was trying to get him to do. He nodded his head and made his way to the room he knew Sam and Dean were in. He made sure to side step each spot of blood on the carpet on his way there. John paused in front of the shut door before he reached out and tried the handle. The door slipped open without him so much as turning the knob. A strong gust of wind flung him backwards into the couch before he could take more than one step inside the room. He could hear shouts of his names, but his vision was blurry and his head hurt too much for him to even begin to try and distinguish who was calling out to him.
Two sets of hands grabbed both of his arms and hoisted him to his feet. He felt sick, dizzy, and all he wanted to do was make it to his boys; to see if they were ok. The hands on his arms kept him where he was until they were sure he wasn't going to fall down on the ground once they let go of him. It turned out to be a good thing. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to stand on his own after that.
"John, I am very sorry. I thought you were someone else." John recognized the voice. It wasn't Missouri. It wasn't even Mike, but he recognized the voice from somewhere. When he finally put the voice with a face all he wanted to do was get away from the person that was trying to keep him from falling over. He thought the man would leave him alone after a while, but there he was in the flesh; acting as if it was his right to be there with them.
"You!" John grabbed a hold of the man's shirt and slammed him harshly into the wall behind him, "What did you do to Kate?"
"John! It wasn't him!" he heard Missouri shout, but he didn't release his grip the man.
"She is correct." It was all Castiel gave as an answer to John's question. John released him a moment later; choosing to go to his sons instead of dealing with Castiel. He went to the side of their bed and knelt down beside them. In the back of his mind it registered to him that Dean would normally be awake at this hour, but he wasn't stuck on that. He checked both of them carefully for anything out of the ordinary; wounds or markings on their bodies that hadn't been there that morning. There was none. They were simply sleeping much longer than they normally would have that morning.
John shook Dean lightly to try and wake him, but nothing changed. "Dean." He whispered quietly. He didn't want to wake Sammy, but he needed to get Dean up and see if he had witnessed anything. No such luck. Dean continued to sleep in the crib beside his brother.
"He won't wake up." Castiel said, and left it at that as if he thought John would understand what he meant. At the glare he received from John, he continued. "I put him to sleep so that he didn't walk in on that."
John didn't bother to respond. He quickly began to pick things up from around the house that belonged to them. Like Missouri said; they needed to get out of there. It was no longer safe in Lawrence and he wasn't about to put his two sons in danger. He was going to get them away from all of this. It didn't matter that he still had questions for Castiel about what exactly happened in the Guenther house that day, but all that could wait until everything was packed up and they were out of there. Missouri helped him by gathering up the boys and taking them to the Impala across the street. She came back inside the house a moment later to find that all of John's and the boys' belongings were now packed up in bags.
The bags were loaded into the car without much care as to what happened to the contents inside. John waited for Missouri to climb into the front seat of the Impala before he grabbed a fistful of Castiel's shirt and slammed him into the side of the car. He wanted answers and it seemed like the only person that could give them to him was a guy he had only meet after Mary's death; someone he really didn't believe he should be trusting, but he really had no choice.
"What's going on, Castiel?" he spat the name out as he glared at the slightly smaller male.
"John, I will not be getting into this with you here. Right now you have to go." Castiel said, and before John could ask another question the angel was gone. He vanished out from his grasp, leaving John standing by his car while Missouri waited for him to take them to her home. John let out a faint growl before climbing into the driver's seat of the Impala, putting the car in drive, and setting off for Missouri's home. He could wait a little while longer for his answers. As long as Castiel didn't vanish again and refuse to come back for a couple of weeks. It didn't matter how long he waited. It only mattered that he solved Mary's case.
December 23, 1983
John paced impatiently in front of Castiel. Occasionally he would stop dead in his tracks while facing the angel and open his mouth like he was going to say something, but picked up his pacing once more instead. He didn't know what to say to the angel. Nothing made the slightest sense to him any longer, but he knew that the angel knew at least some of the answers to the questions he had—he just had to figure out how to ask the questions he wanted answered.
Castiel watched his charge with an unchanging face. He was growing quickly inpatient with the man's incessant need to continue to walk back and forth in front of him, but he was wary of actually showing John that he should stop pacing and simply come out and ask whatever was ailing him. Of course, he could simply upset the man further. In the past three days Castiel had failed to protect Kate from whatever monster had entered the Guenther house, put his boys into a very deep slumber, forced John to leave the Guenther's without talking to Mike first, and he kept popping in and out of Missouri's home without so much as a warning to John beforehand.
Missouri had gladly taking in the Winchester's after everything that happened. She had assured John that whatever attacked Mary and went after his boys wasn't going to get into her home if she had anything to do about it and for some reason, John had believed her. She was sitting in the living room with them, but she looked exhausted from being forced to stay until three in the morning while John tried to think through exactly what he wanted to say to the angel leaning against her dresser.
John spun on his heel and stomped over to Castiel, stopping when he was standing an inch from the other male. His eyes were narrowed into a glare as he stared at the angel. He still didn't know how to come out and say what he wanted to ask, but he knew that pacing around Missouri's living room wasn't going to get them anywhere. Plus, he was never all that good at thinking things through. They'd get absolutely no where if he remained in his head.
"What the hell's going on?" John shouted the first part, but lowered his volume as soon as he remembered that Dean and Sam were asleep in one of the upstairs bedrooms.
"I do not know." John curled his fingers into the white fabric of Castiel's shirt, pulled the angel closer to his body, and then slammed the male's body into the dresser.
"What do you mean, you don't know?" John was all but growling now. He wanted answers and the angel wasn't giving them to him.
"I only know what my superiors tell me." Castiel stared at the man before him unblinkingly; he didn't even flinch when John pulled him from the dresser and repeated the actions he had done a second before.
"And that is?" John asked, his tone pleading.
"The demon that killed your wife; he's gone, John. He left Lawrence yesterday. If you want to find him, you have to leave too." John fell forward at the last word as Castiel vanished out of his grasp.
John slapped painfully on the top of the dresser and turned around to face Missouri. She was standing now, walking towards him. She raised her hands to cup the sides of his face.
"He's right, you know." Missouri said.
John sighed and nodded his head at the woman. He had to leave, but he needed some sleep first. It would do no good to hit the road this late at night with little to no sleep under his belt. He shied away from the woman and made to walk towards his room, but stopped when he heard her voice from behind him.
"John, you take care of those boys for me." Missouri said. He heard her foot steps behind him, but he was still shocked when Missouri was standing beside him instead of heading off to her bedroom. She reached up, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled him down into a hug that was meant to be a goodbye. She already knew he wouldn't be there in the morning. She made sure to write him a note as to where he should go first before she went off to bed.
December 25, 1983
John didn't sleep much that night. He had spent most of the time heading to Nebraska. He was going to the place in Missouri's note. A small bar in Nebraska called Harvelle's Roadhouse. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to bring his boys to such a place, but in the note she had assured him that the owners knew a lot about hunting down demons of all kinds. He still wasn't all that sure about it, but if they could teach him how to track and kill the thing that took Mary from him then he'd give it a shot.
He had stopped at hotel maybe a mile or so away from the Roadhouse after Sammy began to get cranky from being stuck in his car seat for so long. Dean hadn't been happy either, not use to being forced to sit still for long car rides. John paid for the room with a little of the money he had obtained from Mike after the man bought the shop from him. The boys had fallen asleep shortly after they entered the room, both curled up in the middle of one of the beds. On the other hand, it had taken John a couple of hours before he finally fell into a light slumber.
A couple more hours passed before he woke up in the dead of the night. John's eyes glanced over to the clock on the bedside table between his bed and the boys' bed. It read two o'clock in the morning; Christmas already. It felt odd. Their first Christmas without Mary. It was simple, way too simple when he thought about what Sam and Dean deserved. He had made sure to put up a tree, but it was nothing compared to the tree they had put up when Mary was still alive. She would always make sure to keep him around the house one weekend out of the month so that they could decorate it as a family. John would mostly stand around until they needed him to help decorate the top of the tree. Dean still did most of the decorating up top, he just did while in his father's arms.
The tree in the corner of the motel room was nothing compared to those memories. It was a scraggily looking small tree. Dean didn't say anything bad about it though. It was probably because the boy hadn't felt like celebrating Christmas this year without his Mom.
Dean woke up around the same time he did every day and John let him open the presents that were poorly wrapped under the small tree. Every gift was sports related. He was trying to return them to some sense of normalcy, but he doubted it had worked. He didn't even know if Dean would want anything to do with sports any more. He was too old for t-ball now and he didn't know if Dean would want to go out for an actual little league team and John didn't push it.
John decided early on that day that he wasn't going to bother with driving up to Harvelle's Roadhouse yet. He wanted to spend the day with his children instead of complete strangers. He wasn't even sure if the place would be open on Christmas. Instead, they stayed in. Dean had some of his old self back; he talked to John more now after meeting Missouri and even played around with the sports equipment. He didn't leave the hotel room, but he tossed the football around inside the room with John. They were both careful not to accidentally hurt Sam or to break something in the room.
John received a call around noon from Detective Marsters; the man that took lead in Mary's case. Her case had officially been declared closed.
January 1, 1984
John had never liked this time of year. It had been Mary's favorite. She loved the New Year. Each year she would make a New Year's resolution and unlike most people, she'd actually completed hers. He remembered her trying to get him to make one every year since they started dating, but he had refused each time. He never saw the reason to make a promise to himself to do something he probably would never do. She had always been disappointed in him for not doing it, but he had shrugged it off each time.
This year was different. He was going to make a resolution to himself, and he was going to do it no matter how long it took him. It didn't matter if it took him longer than to the end of the year. All he wanted to do was complete it. His resolution? No matter how long it took, no matter what it took, he'd find out what happened to his wife. He'd find the demon that took her from him and kill him.
-/-
Important Note: (contains slight spoilers) I tried to tie in all the Supernatural extras there are. Meaning? The online journal, the show itself, the Supernatural Origins comic, and what I've read of the printed John's journal. I hope it still makes sense. I mean, all four sources have different takes on so many things that happened before John became a hunter that it's hard to figure out which one to use. So I combined the four. In the online journal it doesn't mention Missouri's vision of the words or the death of some of John's friends, but it does say they were staying with Mike and Kate. However in the Supernatural Origins comic it mentions they were staying with someone else who died the day that Missouri visited John's old home. And in the show; Mike Guenther makes an appearance, but Kate is never mentioned. So I combined all of it and came up with this chapter… If you liked it let me know : ) and even if you didn't. Any constructive criticism or words of praise are greatly appreciated and keep me going!