"Whirlwind"

"Chapter Seven: Journey to the Past "

Sam watched as John backed away with regret filling his eyes. Sam didn't turn around when he felt the cool hand encase around his arm. A tugging sensation filled him and before he could tell what was going on, he was standing in a yellow nursery. The walls were covered with sunflowers and looked too painfully cheerful.

The demon took a step from behind Sam to stand next to him. A grin twitched on his face as he watched the tiny baby fussing in the crib. Taking a step forward, Sam peered down at the baby girl with tuffs of blonde hair.

"This is just the beginning," the demon started, "of this thrilling opportunity to understand who you are and what you are to become - how to be all you can be."

"Why should I believe anything you show me? I mean, you did kill me after all," Sam said dully.

He turned to look at the demon smirking. Sam felt defeated and wanted nothing more than to see Dean one last time to make sure he didn't do anything stupid and to make sure he gets to a hospital. He could see Dean barely holding on, his face so white that it looked like at any moment he would pass out. Then the image of his father burned in his eyes, the helpless look of defeat gracing his rugged features.

"It was necessity. I can't show you all that I have to show you alive - red tape, it'll make you crazy. You have a choice, Sammy. You could stay dead and keep good ole Dad company in hell… or you can see the light at the end of the tunnel and join me."

"Henry?" a tired female voice called. "Henry, is Mary being fussy again?"

Sam didn't answer. He turned to the doorway to see a tired woman stumbling into the bedroom. Her blonde locks were tousled around rosy face. She had on a nightgown, one that was considered fashionable in the 50's. Her eyes rested on a figure standing next to the crib, one that Sam hadn't seen earlier. The figure raised his finger to his mouth to silence the woman.

"Henry, why are you wearing a coat?" the woman questioned farther as she stepped into the room. "Henry?"

A gasp escaped the woman's lips as she was thrown against the wall with a loud thump. She struggled against the invisible binds that kept her pinned. Realizing it was fruitless, she closed her eyes as she slowly slid up the wall. She tried to remain calm, her chest heaving.

"You won't get away with this," the woman commented as her body slid up on the ceiling.

Sam turned to see the demon standing there, looking younger in the body he was possessing. There was no way the victim he was possessing could be more than seventeen or eighteen years old. Sam turned to see the demon he came with looking calm, his gaze fixated on his younger self.

"Watch me."

"Lily?" a male voice called. "Lily, what's going on?"

The woman on the ceiling reacted immediately, fear crossing her face. She began to struggle again as an invisible knife ran along her stomach. Blood started to drip onto the floor as the curtains burst into flames. The younger demon was gone just before a man with sandy hair walked into the nursery. His eyes widened at the fire, rushing to grab the baby out of the crib.

"Mommy? Daddy?" a childish voice called.

The man cradled the baby in his arms, hushing her silently as he started to make his way out of the room. That's when he saw the woman on the ceiling. Sam rushed forward, prepared to catch the baby that was certain to be dropped, but saw his hand glide right through the man's body.

"Just memories, the past," the demon explained slightly amused. "This isn't Back to the Future."

The man screamed, "Lily!" once more before a boy no more than seven or eight appeared in the doorway - his green eyes filled with terror and faced smeared with freckles. The boy eerily reminded Sam of Dean. He watched the baby start to slip from the man's arms. The kid rushed forward, supporting the baby in his arms. The kid started to look up at the ceiling, wandering what the man was looking at. The man grabbed the boy's face, keeping him from looking up.

"Ben, take your sister outside as fast as you can. Go to Uncle Douglas and tell him to call 911! Go, Ben, now!"

Ben rushed from the room, luckily not looking upwards. Sam broke out into a run, following the boy. He raced through the second story, not really paying attention to where he was going. The demon wasn't far behind him as he took the stairs two at a time. Before long, Sam stepped outside to see that the neighbors of the small family were already outside, pointing at the burning house. The boy rushed up to a man who looked like Dean with the same short, brown hair and green eyes.

"Uncle Douglas!" Ben cried as the Dean look-alike picked the kids up in his arms.

"Where's your mom and dad?" the man asked frantically.

"Inside," Ben responded. "Daddy didn't- he didn't…"

There was a loud boom, causing Sam to duck instinctively. He whipped around just to time to watch the second story collapse within itself. There was no way anyone left inside the house survived. Sam turned back to the kids and their uncle, his eyes wide with understanding. His throat clenched as he stared at the baby girl.

"It's 'kay, Mary," the boy said through tears. "Uncle Douglas is here."

"You did this?" Sam shouted enraged. "You orphaned those kids? My- my mother?"

"I really like you, Sammy. I really liked Mary and Lily. It's just… wrong place, wrong time."

"You show me that my grandmother and mother were like me - psychics. You're basically telling me that when they had the chance to rot in hell or join you, they chose hell, so why would I want to join you if they didn't?"

"They didn't have the choice. I killed them so the offer wasn't valid. Red tape, I'm telling you, Sam, it'll get you every time."

Before Sam could say anything else, the world around him became fuzzy. When his vision became clear again, he was standing in a musty bar with the demon next to him. In the table in front of him sat three people: an older man, a younger man, and a younger girl. The two men looked like Dean - one as he looked now and the other as he would look in a good thirty years. The young girl was unmistakably his mother.

"We head out tomorrow night," the oldest one stated as he downed his liquor. "Ben, you're on gun cleaning duty tonight. Mary… why don't you practice your shot?"

"No," she said.

"Excuse me?" Ben questioned as the uncle just shook his head.

"I said, 'no'. I'm sick of this life. All I've ever known is crappy motel rooms and target practice. I haven't stayed in a town long enough to make any friends or even have a boyfriend. You think Mom and Dad would have wanted us to have this life? Hunting things that go bump in the night? Seriously, Benny, how can you be happy?"

Sam hovered beside his mother, his heart pounding hard against his chest. He turned back to look at the demon who made no acknowledgement of the conversation. The demon was too busy looking around the room as though looking for someone. Sam turned back to the family he never knew, the family that had been hunters just like him and Dean. The idea of his mother being a hunter made him sick.

"Uncle Doug took us in, Mary. He gave us a family. He's protected us and taught us how to protect ourselves. You're just being selfish."

"You want to leave, Mary?" the uncle slurred. "You leave. You leave your family behind for some cheap thrills. Go ahead. It'll show how much you appreciate what we do. I've done all I could for you, Mary, and you're just an ungrateful bitch who killed my baby sister."

Sam watched as his mother stood up from the booth and made her way towards the bar, her jaw tight and eyes straight ahead. She rested her elbows on the bar, her body leaning forward. She ordered a beer as she took a seat. Sam turned away from his mother to look at her family who were talking in low voices to one another. By the time he looked back, a young man appeared next to her - his father clad in a Marine uniform.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing in this dingy bar all by herself?"

John Winchester's smile was wide as he took the vacant seat next to Mary. He ordered a drink with a motion of the hand, his eyes never leaving Mary. She tried to ignore him, annoyance evident in her face.

"I'm a Corporal. Echo 2/1. Just got back from 'Nam."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" she snapped as she glanced at him.

"Would it impress you more if I showed you the nice bullet wound in my leg? Or the one in my shoulder? I got a bronze star and a purple heart at once. Smart, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I was a rifleman. Ran in to save this guy's life. His name was Mark… we trained together. He was down. I grabbed him and was almost out of harms way when I get hit in the thigh. Me and my buddy went crashing to the ground. I tried to save my buddy's life, got on top of him to shield him from the bullets coming at us. Got hit in the shoulder when I was moving on top of him. Then out of nowhere, this guy named Deacon comes out. He shoots the mothers down - there were three of those bastards. I don't know how he did it. Saved our lives though. I owe him big time. Told him I'd keep in touch because you can't just blow off a guy who saved your life, you know? No better friend, no worse enemy."

"That was… admirable."

"I'm John, by the way."

"Mary."

"So… you from around here, because I've lived here my whole life and I've never seen you."

"No," she replied as he laughed.

"A woman of few words, I like that."

"A man of too many words, I can't decide if I like that or not."

"Hey, I'm just putting myself out there. I'm so very vulnerable right now, having just got back from war. I don't need you to put me down any more than I already feel."

Sam stared at the interaction between his mother and father. He couldn't quite believe it. He knew his parents met in a bar shortly after John got back from Vietnam, but he never knew how hard he tried to talk to her. He never knew how reserved his mother was, so reluctant to talk to him. This wasn't at all how he pictured their first meeting. Hell, it was hard for Sam to see John smiling and light instead of the serious, gloomy man he grew up with. To see his father so bubbly and talkative was beyond weird. His father usually barked orders, never showed emotion, never felt inclined to tell his sons a story so willingly.

"So if you're not from the wonderful state of Indiana, where are you from?"

"I move around a lot."

"When you leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"Going where?"

"None of your business."

"I'm leaving tomorrow myself. Gonna drive myself to Lawrence, Kansas. A 'Nam buddy of mine is meeting me there. We're opening up our own business - auto body shop."

"You're good with cars then?"

"Yeah, got a real beauty. I come back from 'Nam, and my dad has this nice '67 Impala parked in the driveway. I've been lusting over '67 Impalas since they came out. I was thirteen at the time. Man, Mary, they're gorgeous."

"I bet."

"Say, let me buy you dinner. We can even go to a movie if you like. There's an old cinema showing a double feature - From Hell It Came and The Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman. They're a little old, I know, but I just love old science fiction movies."

Mary looked behind her to where her family was sitting. They were mulling over something. Sam saw the hesitation in her face but it soon left when a small smile crept up on her face. She turned back to John, her bottom lip sliding in-between her teeth.

"You got a last name, Johnny?"

"Winchester. John Winchester."

"Like the rifle?"

"Exactly. Do you have a last name, Mary?"

"Mary Seraph."

"Like the angels?"

"Exactly." She cleared her throat. "Tell you what. I was going down to… Topeka, Kansas… for kicks. But, um, if you give me a ride to Lawrence, I'll let you buy me dinner and we can see if your old movies are playing somewhere."

"I like the way you think, Mary. This… it's destiny."

"Why don't we go to your house, pack up, and leave tonight?"

"Pushy much?"

"Just anxious to ride in a great muscle car with a 'Nam vet."

"Marry me."

"Don't jump the gun just yet. You barely know me."

"I don't care. You're beautiful, don't talk a lot, like adventure, know your guns, want to go to Kansas of all places, like muscle cars… you're the dream girl of every guy."

The room started to blur again, the image of John and Mary disappearing into blotches. Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head. When he reopened his eyes, he was outside of the home he only spent six months in - the home he couldn't remember. He was in the back garden. Mary was standing there, a wedding ring on her finger and a small bump under her breasts. She wore a sundress and her hair was tied up in a knot on the top of her head.

"I'm too good to you, Sammy, showing you more than I really should. I'm giving you the information of your mother that you crave, because I'm in a great mood. You see Mary was smart. She abandoned the family business of hunting because deep down she knew it was wrong. She left with Johnny, made a life in Lawrence. You left your family because you knew it was wrong. You left for education. You and your mom, you're more alike than you ever thought."

Mary knelt down in front of a bed of flowers. The ones on the end were dying, the leaves brown and the petals wilting. Reaching out a hand, she rubbed the leaf with her fingers. Slowly, the leaves turned green and the petals regained their color and flourished. A smile crossed her face as she turned her head when childish laughter started to ring throughout the backyard.

"Mommy! Help!"

Coming around the corner of the house was a three-year-old Dean. His face was red and alit with laughter. Not far behind him was John Winchester, a grin plastered on his face. Mary laughed, holding her arms open for her son to fall into. Before Dean could make it to his mother's safe arms, he tripped over his own feet. Falling to the ground, his hands shot in front of him.

"Dean!" John shouted as he picked up the pace to his son.

Mary closed the small distance between her and Dean. She scooped him up in her arms and looked him over. His hands and knees were grass stained. His left knee was red, a slow trickle of blood cascading out. Dean squirmed as big, wet tears filled his eyes.

"Ma'ic kisses, Mommy," he said quietly with a sniff.

Mary kissed the tears off Dean's face before she bent down and placed a gentle kiss on the scraped knee. Dean's face lit up immediately as Mary wiped the blood away with the hem of her dress. There was no evidence that he had scraped his knee. John knelt down beside his wife and son, kissing them each on the cheek.

"Hey, Dean, you feeling better?" John asked as the boy nodded enthusiastically. "Why don't we throw around the old football? You need to perfect the fine art of spiraling before your little brother or sister comes so you can show them how to do it."

The yard spun as Sam found himself in the middle of a wooded area. He saw his father crouching with a gun clenched between his hands. The demon was next to Sam, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. Sam tried to shake the hand off, but the grip only tightened.

"You saw how good your mother was - how she gave up hunting for a better life. How her gift fit perfectly with her personality, so nurturing and pure. Now, let's see how your father's crusade of good intentions turned bad."

"Dammit!" John hissed.

A rustling came from behind Sam. He turned around to see a man with light brown hair and a day's stubble standing up. His gun was steady and trained somewhere behind John. Shots rang out as John pinned his body to the ground.

"The hell, Bill?" John shouted when the firing stopped.

"Losing your touch, Johnny. If it weren't for me, you'd be dead."

Sam craned his neck to see what his father was looking at behind him. Some sort of hell spawn laid dead behind him. A deafening scream rang throughout the woods, making Sam nearly jump out of his skin. He turned around to see that another hell spawn was ripping apart the guy named Bill. John fired several shots, knocking the thing backwards and away from the hunter.

"Bill!"

John rushed forward, falling down on his knees next to the guy. Sam stepped forward, hovering over the two. The guy was in pretty bad shape, scratches across his chest and one large slash across his face. His breathing was uneven, his face ghastly white.

"Ellen," he whispered. "Getta me… Ellen."

"Bill, you're… you're… there's no way."

"Joey…" he gasped out, "Joey-Jo."

John made to get up but Bill's hands flung forward and clenched his shirt. He was blubbering for Ellen and Jo, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. The front of John's shirt was smeared in blood as Bill desperately clung onto the fellow hunter. A rustling was heard from where John had been crouching before. He shot up, Bill's grip slipping loose. Raising his gun, John pointed towards the sound. It was silent for several minutes. All that could be heard was Bill's labored breathing.

John turned towards his friend who could barely keep his eyes open. Sam watched as his father aimed his gun at the dying man in front of him. Bill mumbled, asking John not to do it. He called for Ellen and Jo before John pulled the trigger. Shaking, John dropped the gun to the ground. He rubbed his hands over his face, his face white and his breathing heavy. Grabbing the gun, he wiped the prints before carefully putting it in Bill's hand.

Everything swirled and Sam found himself in an alleyway. John was leaning up against a dumpster, his jaw tight as he stared at the man in front of him. The man looked slightly older than John, the man's hair growing steadily gray. His eyes were dull as he stared at John, lazily twirling a coin in his hand.

"The famous John Winchester… when I heard about the way your wife died, I knew I had to meet you."

"Cut the crap. Who the hell are you?"

"Jack Emery. My wife died, car accident just before my youngest sixth-month birthday. On her six-month birthday, I go in to check on her - had a gun on me like always. I knew about demons and ghosts. My father was a hunter and his before him. Anyways, I see this demon standing over her, its blood dripping into her mouth. Shot that motherfucker full of rock salt. Didn't do anything but piss It off. It pushed me up on a wall telepathically. Then it smirked, its yellow eyes so full of… anyways, it tells me it could kill me or play a game and games were more fun. Told me to wait around for my daughter to turn twenty-two and watch as she grows into her powers. Told me she would join its demon army because she would see the light."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Rumor has it that your wife was killed by this demon on your son's six-month birthday.

"Don't presume you know anything about me or my family."

"You think I want my baby girl to go through that? Ada's only seventeen. She has an older sister who's overprotective of her. I love my girls as I'm sure you love your boys, but your younger son won't be your younger son once he's twenty-two."

"You stay the hell away from my son."

"You want him to be a murderer? I can't sit back and watch Ada become a murderer."

"You're going to kill your own daughter because some demon told you she was going to turn evil? You're crazy."

"You're going to have to kill him sooner or later, Winchester; and I suggest sooner rather than later… before it's too late."

Sam watched as his father grabbed the guy by the collar, ramming him backwards into a brick building. John's right hand let go of the collar. He pulled his arm back and allowed his fist to connect to the fellow hunter's jaw. A scuffle started. John had the upper hand due to his military training. He quickly got the older hunter on the ground, too exhausted to fight back. John's lip was split open, a small trail of blood running from his nose, but all and all fine.

"Who else knows?"

"Like I'd tell you, Winchester."

"Who else knows about my son?" John pulled back his fist and punched the man in the jaw. "Who else knows about Sammy?"

"What're you gonna do? Kill 'em?"

"Damn right I'm going to kill them! I'm going to kill them all before they do something stupid and murder my son!"

"I'm not tellin' ya a thin'," he slurred.

John grabbed the guy, pulling him upwards before pushing him back against the building. He pulled a knife out and shoved it into the man's stomach, twisting the knife before pulling it out. Emery gasped, blood dripping from his mouth as he slid down the wall and fell into a heap on the floor. John breathed heavily as he wiped the blood from the blade onto Emery's shirt.

The alleyway disappeared. When the world around him became clear again, Sam saw Dean lying on the floor. He was panting hard, staring up at an older woman who held a cloth doll in her hand and needles in the other. His gun wasn't that far away from him, nearly in arms reach.

"Your daddy killed more hunters who were associated in Emery's little group. Five of them in all, but we don't need to see the grisly details now do we, Sammy?" The demon patted him on the back. "Time to watch Dean kill an innocent."

"She doesn't look so innocent."

"No, not her. The old broad is a voodoo priestess. Ooh, don't much care for them myself. The needle thing really creeps me out. He's going to kill someone else. Someone who doesn't know what exactly she was doing."

Sam watched Dean wither on the floor as the older woman shoved needle after needle into the voodoo doll in her hand. Swallowing hard, Sam was starting to believe that everything the demon showed him was true. It all seemed to fit.

"I was working my own gig. This voodoo thing down in New Orleans," Dean's words rang in Sam's head.

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"

"I'm 26, Dude."

The woman placed another needle into the doll, one directly in the left eye. Dean grunted in pain as his hand groped for the gun. Somehow, he managed to grip it. He swung it around and shot the priestess twice. Her body slumped to the floor as Dean staggered up. Bending down, he grabbed the voodoo doll in his hand and took out the needles wincing in pain each time.

"Sonofabitch," he muttered.

Dean ripped the doll opened before discarding it to the floor. His gun was still clenched in his right hand as he panted. Out of nowhere, he doubled over in pain. He hit the floor, turning around. Sam followed his brother's gaze to a girl no more than ten standing in the doorframe with a voodoo doll clenched in her hand.

"Grandma-ma always says ya need a backup."

Dean raised his hand and fired at the small child. He hit her twice, the doll falling from her hands. His eyes widened, his hand shaking. Getting up slowly, he walked to the girl to check for a pulse.

"Killed a little girl who didn't know any better. Didn't even hesitate. Did you notice, Sammy?"

"He didn't mean to kill her," Sam reasoned as he watched his brother cradle the small girl in his arms.

"He's a hunter… a killer."

Everything swirled again and Sam was standing in an empty room. The demon was in front of him, a solemn look on his face. It seemed like he was preparing himself for a serious talk, one without the sarcastic drawl filling his words.

"Some things are just plain evil. Vampires, werewolves… let the hunters kill them. We don't do anything, Sammy. Sure we possess some people, but we only kill when we have to. It's survival of the fittest, seeing whose going to get immunity week after week. You can make a difference, Sam, stop the fighting. Join me and prosper. You can't do anything while in hell."

Author's Notes - So, this was the longest chapter thus far but not by much since I did some nice editing for once except there's still probably still some grammar mistakes. Next chapter you'll see Sam's decision and Dean will make an appearance. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think.