Part 4

"How long has this been going on?" John Winchester asked his betraying wife when she had informed him what had happened that evening. He couldn't believe he was going through this again. He thought it was all behind him. When they got pregnant, she promised him she would quit hunting. It was her idea to do so. He didn't have to force her to do anything. She always said she didn't want to bring her children in the same world she was brought up in. They were now sitting across from each other at the kitchen table.

"About six months now," she felt like she was being interrogated and she didn't like it but she was grateful the yelling had stopped. "I wanted to tell you everything but after every hunt I convinced myself it would be my last."

John rubbed his face down with his hand and groaned. "Are there any weapons in the house?"

She shook her head hard. "No, no way. I would never do that." Any weapons she did have were in a secret compartment under the floor boards of the shed at the end of the garden. She made sure her boys couldn't access it by always covering it with the lawn mower.

They were silent again. She could tell he was still angry. When he was mad he would yell but when he was really angry, he would either leave the room or be really quiet.

"The demon attacks around town are becoming more frequent," she told him what she was thinking. She knew it was safer than going behind his back again. She hated that she lied to him for so long. "I think they know the angels have plans for Dean and are looking to get their hands on him first," she paused. "I think it's safer if we do what Castiel says and turn him into a hunter." She snuck a look from her husband. "And you know if we teach Dean, Sam will want to learn too."

John cupped his hands in front of his mouth and blew into them hard. "But he's so young. No… not Sammy. I won't allow it. He's just so… so…" he searched for a word that didn't make him sound like a horrible father.

"Weak?" Mary helped him knowing what he was thinking. She shook her head. "He has been bullied since his first day of school. Believe me when I say our son is not weak."


Dean lay on his bed and stared at a poster of a young Farrah Fawcett that was taped to his ceiling. He allowed his eyes to follow the outline of her bouncing blonde hair and large white smile. Sam sat at the end of the bed with his feet crossed under him. Their mother had sent them to their rooms when she saw their father pull into the driveway but Sam snuck into Dean's bed when the shouting became too much for him to bear. That was ten minutes ago. Now, it was just silence.

"Why do you think it's so quiet?" Sam mumbled.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe dad killed mom and now he's looking for a place to bury her."

"Don't joke about it, Dean," Sam thumbed him on the leg. He rubbed his eyes. They were dry and sore. He was tired of crying. "Do you think dad will let me train with you?" he wondered hopefully.

Dean shrugged a shoulder. He was still in shock over meeting an angel. A real angel… only without the wings. He wondered why him. What made him so special? It had to be something important otherwise why would God send an angel down to protect him? He heard two chairs scratch against the kitchen tiles and he breathed a sigh of relief. Even if his parents weren't speaking at least they were still there. He thought about training alone under his mother's wing but he also wanted to protect his little brother. If the angel was right and he did have to learn how to be a hunter, it made sense that Sam should learn how to protect himself too. "I hope so. I don't want to go through this crap alone."


Jonathan Whitmore sat up in his bed. He swung his legs out under the blanket and onto the soft carpet. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. This was the second night in a row that he couldn't sleep and he couldn't figure out why. Before, when he couldn't sleep it was because he was having nightmares about Lilly. His beautiful white Lilly. But he had come to terms with her death. He just wasn't tired enough to sleep.

He headed down to the kitchen. His throat felt dry and he wanted something strong like a whiskey or strong coffee but he knew it wasn't a good idea. So instead he reached inside the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk. He looked at the door of the fridge. Each magnet represented a different country he and Lilly had visited when they were together. Each magnet held up a photograph of family and friends. In the middle of all the photographs, was a small calendar. He wasn't one for calendars. That was more Lilly's thing. But since her death, he had been using it a lot more.

Today was September 17th. Tomorrow, he had an appointment with his attorney to agree on his last will and testament. He had planned to give what little money he had to his brother in New England. He was going to give his house to his sister in Baltimore and his vintage toy car collection to his nephew. He already had it priced. In total, he could sell the collection for two thousand dollars.

October 10th was her anniversary. He didn't know why he wrote it in the calendar. It's not like he'd ever forget it. It had been three years since her death and he and his family liked to meet up for dinner and talk about the good times. The first meeting was so tough. He actually walked out on it because he couldn't bear to hear them laugh anymore. How could they laugh? She hadn't been dead long enough to laugh about her. But the second meeting was a lot easier. He had actually learned to laugh with them now. He didn't want to miss that day.

October 31st he had planned to take his nephew trick or treating. His sister always bought him his costumes but this year Colm wanted a home-made costume. He saw an old picture of Lilly dressed as a rubix cube and he thought it was the funniest thing. So Jonathan told him he would be honoured to make him a smaller version of it. He couldn't miss seeing his face and taking him out in the costume.

November 20th was thanksgiving with the family. He usually alternated spending time between his sister and his brother but this year he asked them to have dinner in his house. At first, they were sceptical that he could even make a dinner. "Turkey takes time to perfect," his sister kept telling him but he replied that he had learned from the best. His sister had taken care of him and his brother when they were younger. She was like the mother they never had. This year was going to be one to remember. He had planned to decorate the rooms with autumn paper coloured leaves, use orange serviettes and table cloth and put brown mats on the floor. It was going to be cheesy and fun. Every time he thought about it, he smiled. He couldn't miss that. He was looking forward to it.

December 16th had a smiley faced sticker over it. He smiled. That was D-day. It was the day he was excited about yet feared. It was the day he was going to test his faith and jump into the unknown. He was going to wait 'til after Christmas but every Christmas without his Lilly was torture and he wasn't about to go through another year without her again. He shook his head and looked down at his glass of milk. No, the 16th was a good day. It was the day he was going to say yes.


AN: Confused? Don't be. Jonathan Witmore's story becomes more evident later on. Thanks for reading!