Chapter Nine
John pulled up to a cabin in the woods at night, parking the car and turning it off.
Mary turned towards him. "I need you to stay here."
John frowned. "Mary, I—"
"John, please," Mary pleaded. "He doesn't know you."
"Well, he doesn't know you either," John told her.
"Everyone in our tight-knit circle 'knows' each other," said Mary. "He'll trust me. I need you to stay here with the boys. Not to mention, he's not gonna take too kindly to someone knocking on his door at four in the morning."
John looked back at where his sons were sleeping in the backseat, Dean with one arm wrapped protectively around his infant brother. He looked back at Mary and nodded.
Mary turned to open the passenger door, but John placed a hand on her shoulder. Mary turned back towards him.
"Be careful, Mary," John told her.
Mary smiled and leaned towards him for a kiss. She then turned back to the door, climbing out of the Impala. She looked back at the Impala once more, seeing that John was watching her carefully. She turned back towards the cabin, heading up the path. As she drew closer, she spotted a few traps nearby: a devil's trap painted on the doorstep, a line of salt sticking out from under the doorjamb on the floor, the doorbell framed in an iron fixture, the doorknob built out of iron…
Mary stepped up onto the doorstep in the devil's trap, ringing the doorbell. After a moment, something bumped softly against the door.
"Who's there?" called a man from inside the cabin.
"My name is Mary Winchester. I need your help."
"I don't know any Winchesters," said the man.
"I'm a hunter from Kansas," Mary told him. "Can I come in and talk?"
There was a pause before the door was unlocked and opened. A red-haired man was aiming a shotgun at her from the doorway.
"Talk about what?" asked the man.
Mary looked down at the devil's trap and stepped backwards out of the paint. She looked back up to see the man lowering his gun a little. "Are you Daniel Elkins?"
The man frowned. "I am."
"I was sent here for something," said Mary. "The Colt."
Daniel frowned. "The what?"
"The Colt," said Mary. "I have it on very good authority that you have it."
"The Colt?" said Daniel. "Just a fairy tale; it doesn't exist."
"I happen to know it does," said Mary. "Daniel, please. This gun is the only chance I have to save my family."
Daniel regarded her for a moment before lowering the shotgun and gesturing for her to come in. Mary walked over the hidden salt line and into the cabin past Daniel. Daniel shut the door, locking it behind her.
Daniel led her into his study. "Why do you need the Colt?"
"A demon," Mary told him. "He's after me and my family."
"Ever heard of an exorcism?" asked Daniel, laying his shotgun down on his desk.
"We tried that," said Mary. "He'll come back."
"How do you know?" asked Daniel, frowning.
"This isn't the first time I've run into him," Mary explained. "He's after us specifically, for some reason." She decided that spilling everything to this hunter was probably not a smart idea. It's not like he would believe the whole time travelling radio thing. "If I can kill this son of a bitch, it'll be over."
Daniel considered her for a moment before turning towards the corner, approaching the huge safe on the floor. He knelt in front of it, spinning the combination into the lock. The door opened with a clunk, and Daniel reached inside, pulling out a pristine 1835 Colt revolver. He straightened back up, turning towards Mary and holding the Colt close.
Mary stared down at the gun in the hunter's hands. I don't believe it…It really exists…
Daniel looked up at Mary and hesitantly held the Colt out to her. Mary reached out and took hold of the Colt, taking it from Daniel. Mary noticed the pentagram carved into the handle and the phrase engraved on the barrel: non timebo mala…I will fear no evil.
It was a little strange holding this gun in her hands, knowing what this gun would have gone through had the past not changed. This was the gun her sons had used to kill the Yellow-Eyed Demon.
Mary looked back up at Daniel. "Thank you. I'll make sure you get this back."
"Here, you're gonna need these," said Daniel, handing her the case with seven bullets in it.
Mary took the case, placing the Colt inside and holding the case close.
"Winchester, Kansas," said Daniel, nodding. "I'll be waiting for ya."
Mary turned and headed for the front door, unlocking it and heading outside. As Daniel closed and locked the door behind her, she saw John relax in the driver's seat of the Impala when he spotted her. Mary climbed into the passenger seat, closing the door.
John glanced down at the case in Mary's hands. "Is that it?"
Mary eased the case open, showing him the antique revolver. "That's it."
"And that…can kill demons?" asked John skeptically.
Mary smiled, looking down at the Colt. At first glance, it did seem ridiculous that this gun in front of them is able to kill powerful, evil demons. "I know it doesn't look like something that can kill supernatural monsters, but…" she plucked one of the magic bullets out of its place beside the gun, "these aren't just any bullets. Samuel Colt made them specially for this gun." She looked at the bullet, frowning. "No one really knows how it works or how he made it…but if Sam and Dean say it works, that's good enough for me."
John nodded. "Works for me, too." He turned the car on, heading back into town to get a motel room for the night.
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John watched as Mary walked into the motel room with Sam in her arms and the diaper bag and baby bag hung over her shoulder, making sure she was safe, before leaning into the backseat over his eldest son.
"Dean…" said John softly, shaking his little shoulder.
Dean rolled his head a little, making a small sound.
"Dean, wake up," John coaxed.
Dean reached a hand up, rubbing at his eyes so adorably as he looked up at his father.
"Come on," John told him. "We're going to bed now."
"I'm in bed," Dean told him, trying to head back into his peaceful sleep.
John smiled. Dean always felt so at home in the Impala; when he was a baby and having a particularly hard time sleeping, John would always take him for a drive in the Impala, and it would knock Dean right out. And by the way Dean talked about his car in the future, he knew he still felt the same way about it. From the sounds of it, John had moved them around so much as they were growing up that the Impala had become a home to the two of them.
"You'll be much more comfortable in the bed," said John.
Dean stubbornly turned towards the back of the seat, content to stay in the car.
John leaned a little closer. "Sammy's in there."
Dean turned his head and looked at John before lifting his arms for his father to pick him up.
John smiled in victory as he pulled Dean from the seat and into his arms. If anything could tear Dean away from his Impala, it was Sam.
John grabbed the duffel from the floor of the backseat—along with Dean's suitcase—and closed the back door, locking the car. He headed inside the motel room they'd gotten, setting the suitcase by the table and easing the duffel off of his shoulder and onto the floor next to the suitcase. He thought about giving Dean a bath, but took pity on the sleepy boy and settled for just tucking him into bed. After all, he was still wearing the pajamas they'd put him in before their world had crumbled around them.
John pulled the blankets back from the bed and set Dean down in it, tucking the blankets around him for warmth. He laid his hand on Dean's forehead. "Goodnight, buddy."
He stood and glanced over at the crib they'd manage to get for the room from the motel staff, where Mary was rocking Sam back and forth in her arms. John walked up behind her, looking over her shoulder down at the sleeping bundle. Sam's sleepy eyes landed on John, his tiny mouth gave the slightest of a smile, and his eyes finally slid shut in slumber.
Mary smiled up at John, speaking in a hushed voice. "Looks like he was waiting for you."
John smiled back at her. "Looks like."
Mary leaned over the crib, setting Sam down into it. Mary leaned back against John, sagging into his embrace.
"Tired?" asked John.
Mary nodded. "It's just all so much."
"Then go to sleep," said John. "Just relax for a while."
Mary shook her head. "I can't relax. Not until I know we're all safe…until Sammy's safe."
"You know, I'm here, too," John whispered in her ear. "You don't have to do this alone."
"But, John—" began Mary.
John placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him, kissing her. He put his hands on either side of her face, looking her in the eyes. "Let me help, Mary."
Mary smiled and leaned wearily into his touch.
"Get some sleep," John told her.
Mary kissed him and headed for the duffel, grabbing a pair of casual clothes from it and heading for the bathroom to change.
John turned and looked down into the crib at his son. "Everything's gonna be okay, Sam. I promise."
He began heading around the room, setting up salt lines and devil's traps. He could see where Mary was coming from. He could only imagine what the life of a hunter must be like: always in danger, never knowing who to trust, always on the move…On the other hand, the rewards of such a life…his boys had told them what it was like to be able to save people's lives on a near day-to-day basis. Surely that had to balance things out.
John changed into a t-shirt and casual pants, getting comfortable in the bed across from Dean's and trying to stay awake to keep an eye on the boys.
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Mary came to with a start, wondering what had woken her. She suddenly heard a rattling coming from the other side of the room. She glanced over to see the doorknob jiggling.
Mary reached over and shoved John's shoulder. "John…John…"
John looked at her and then followed her gaze to the door, seeing the doorknob moving. He got up from the bed, grabbing a salt gun and heading for the door to lay in wait next to it. Mary moved over to the other bed, pulling Dean into her arms and hurrying over to the crib.
The doorknob jiggled a little more before the door swung open, hiding John from view. There was a pause before a scrape sounded. Mary leaned a little over to see a stick brushing away the salt line.
Mary made eye contact with John and mouthed, Demon.
John nodded, bringing the salt gun up to ready himself.
Once the salt line was broken, the demon scooted into the room to the side of the devil's trap. He spotted Mary over by the crib and smiled wickedly, his eyes turning black.
"Mary, you got some 'splainin' to do," said the demon.
The demon began to head for her and the boys, but John lunged out from behind the door, shoving the gun into the demon's gut. The demon doubled over as John backed up to shoot him. The demon grabbed the gun, pulling it from John's grasp. He then grabbed John, throwing him into the wall by the beds.
As John pulled himself up to fight back, Mary glanced down at the safe under the crib. She quickly knelt, spinning in the combination. She yanked the door open to pull the Colt's case out.
John blocked a punch with his forearm and got a lucky shot in real quick. The demon grabbed John by the throat, shoving him back against the wall and pushing him up it. John grabbed at the hand around his throat, struggling for breath.
"Hey!"
The demon dropped John in surprise before a gunshot went off. The demon looked down at the glowing hole in his chest and then up at Mary, who was aiming a smoking Colt at him. The bullet wound pulsated with light before the demon dropped to the ground, dead.
Mary looked down in amazement at the Colt before rushing around to her husband. "Are you okay?"
John nodded. "The boys?"
Mary glanced over once at the boys, both of which had—amazingly—remained asleep the whole time. "They're fine."
John looked down at the Colt Mary held in her hand. "Thanks to them…"
