Pilot (S1 E1)

Lawrence, Kansas

22 years ago

It was a warm night for November in Lawrence, Kansas. A big, white house sat on a field of grass. The house belonged to John and Mary Winchester, and their three children: Dean, Millie and baby Sam.

The full moon cast the shadow of the nearby tree onto the side of the house. Suddenly, the shadow of the tree branch seemed to stretch and creep towards the window of baby Sam's room, but the Winchester's inside of their warm house didn't notice.

A beautiful woman with long, wavy blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes walked into a room carrying her oldest son, Dean, on her hip. The four-year-old was wearing a pair of brown checkered pajamas. Beside Mary was her daughter, Millie. The two-year-old had on her favorite purple night dress.

"Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother," Mary said as she let go of her daughter's hand so she could turn on the light in her youngest son's room. Mary sat Dean down on the floor and watched as he immediately ran to the crib where Sam was. Mary tried to pick Millie up, but the toddler refused. The little girl was currently in an independent phase, where she wanted to do everything herself.

"I walk," she told her and began to walk over to where her older brother was. Dean, being taller than Millie, could easily get up to lean over the crib.

"Goodnight, Sam," he said and kissed his brother's forehead.

"I can't," Millie whined, her green eyes filling with tears and her bottom lip began to tremble. And just like that, she (momentarily) abandoned the "I'm independent and don't need any help" phase.

"I'll help you, Millie," Dean offered and tried to pick her up, but Mary quickly intervened.

"Let me do that, sweetheart. I don't want you hurting yourself," the young blonde said and picked her daughter up to hold her over the crib. "Can you say 'goodnight' to Sammy, Millie?" Her mother asked her.

"Goodnight, Sammy," Millie repeated and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

"Good girl," Mary praised her and kissed her cheek. She shifted her daughter to her hip so that she could wish her youngest a goodnight. "Goodnight, love," she whispered to him before she gave him a sweet kiss on his forehead before she straightened up and ran her hand over his head.

Sam looked at his mother with wide baby blue eyes. Mary felt her heart swell with the amount of love she had for him.

She and John had created absolute perfection with their children.

"Hey, Dean," a gruff voice said from the doorway. Dean turned around to see a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes smiling at him.

The man had at one time been muscular and in shape, but as the years have passed, he had since gained a few pounds that seemed to pile over the muscles. He was wearing an old olive colored USMC t-shirt and a pair of blue sleep pants.

"Daddy!" Dean and Millie yelled excitedly. Dean hopped down from the crib and ran to his father with his green eyes wide.

"Hey, buddy," John said smiling and bend down to pick his first born up. "And look, Millie's here too!" He said, his smile widening. Mary walked over to her husband and handed her their daughter, who had been holding her arms out towards the man ever since she knew he had entered the room. "What do you think? D'you think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?" He asked his children.

Dean and his little sister laughed. "No, Daddy," Dean told him and shook his head.

"No," John repeated with a laugh and a roll of his eyes.

"He-he too small, Daddy," Millie told him, as if he didn't already know that.

"Way too small," he agreed and kissed her top of her blonde hair.

"You got 'em?" Mary asked and gently touched Dean's back.

"I got 'em," he assured her and pulled his children tighter against him as his wife left the room.

"Sweet dreams, Sam," John whispered quietly. Sam looked over at his father and made a baby noise, which John interpreted as "goodnight, Daddy! I love you". The thought made John smile wider, deepening the dimples on his cheeks. He turned around to turn off the light, which was a little difficult with his two children in his arms, before he walked out of the room, leaving the door open. "You ready for bed?" He asked them.

"I'm not tired, Daddy," Dean told his father stubbornly.

"Me either, Daddy," Millie agreed, but the little girl was barely hanging on to consciousness. She was using her father's broad shoulder as a pillow while her arms hung limply.

Mary had taken their children to the playground earlier while John was at work. Her and Dean had tired themselves out by chasing each other, swinging on the swings and sliding down the slides together for almost two hours before their mother said that it was time to go home.

When they had gotten home, they had fallen asleep almost immediately, and even though Millie had slept for almost two hours, she was still tired. The only reason why she had said that she wasn't, was because Dean said that he wasn't tired. And after all, Millie couldn't possibly say that she was tired when Dean wasn't tired.

"Are you two sure? Because Mommy told me all about your exciting day," John told them as he walked into Dean and Millie's room.

"We had so much fun, Daddy! Me an' Millie slided down the slides a hundred times!" Dean told his father as the tall man sat him down on his bed.

"A hundred times? No way!" John said with a fake gasp.

"Uh-huh! An' we swinged a-a hunded time mo'!" Millie added as John laid her down in her bed and made sure to put up the gates so that she wouldn't fall out.

"Wow! That many times?" He asked her as he covered her with her pink and purple blanket.

"Yeah!" She confirmed before a big yawn managed to escape her.

"Well, how about you go to sleep and then in the morning you will tell me all about it?" He suggested as he bent down to kiss her forehead.

"Okay, Daddy," she agreed and accepted the pacifier that he gave her. Millie didn't really use pacifiers, never did, but the only time she'd ever take one was during nap time or when it was time to sleep. It always helped her fall asleep.

"I love you, Millie," he said quietly and gently touched her soft cheek before he turned to his son.

"Daddy, can me an' Millie go to the playground tomorrow again?" The toddler asked as his father was covering him with his batman blanket.

"You'll have to ask Mommy tomorrow," he told him and kissed his dirty blonde hair.

"Okay," he agreed before he yawned. "Goodnight, Daddy. I love you," he slurred half asleep.

"Goodnight, buddy. I love you, more," he said and smiled as he looked at his now asleep toddlers. He never thought that he could ever love anyone or anything more than he loved Mary, but the love he had for his children were at times so overwhelming, that it made him want to cry. He was truly blessed.

He gave his toddlers one more glance, before he turned off the light and quietly closed the door before he walked downstairs to watch some TV before he went to bed. There was a documentary about the Vietnam war that he wanted to watch.

Even though he had experienced Vietnam firsthand, he made sure to never miss a single documentary about it. He wasn't sure why; a part of him believed that it helped him cope with what he saw and experienced, while another part theorised that he was paying his respects to his friends that he lost. Whatever the reason, he made himself comfortable in his recliner and relaxed while he watched the show.

… … ...

In Sammy's nursery, the musical mobile above his crib had suddenly begun to play a lazy lullaby tune. Sam looked at it curiously before he lifted both his feet up as if he wanted to reach for it and kick it.

The clock that had pictures of various trucks, cars, trains and airplanes on it in lieu of numbers suddenly stopped ticking, and the moon shaped night light that was giving off a dark yellow light suddenly began to flicker before it turned off completely. Big tears filled Sam's big baby blue eyes before he started to cry.

Mary heard her baby's cries through the baby monitor that was on her nightstand next to her bed. She hummed tiredly as was pulled from her dreamless sleep. She turned towards the baby monitor and saw bright red dots across the dull screen, alerting her that Sam really was crying and that it wasn't just her imagination; not that that mattered. She would often get up in the middle of the night to check on her children, where they woke her up by crying or simply to make sure that they were alright.

She rolled onto her stomach and reached for the lamp on her nightstand, that was next to a picture of her and John, shortly before Millie was conceived. She turned on the light and waited for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. "John?" She asked, her soft voice full of sleep. When she didn't hear a reply, she lifted her head and turned to where John would usually be, only to be greeted by nothing. Mary let out a tired and exhausted sigh before she finally managed to get out of the way too comfortable bed. She let out a loud yawn while she walked to Sam's nursery. "John?" She asked when she saw a shadowy figure standing at her son's crib. "Is he hungry?" She asked.

The figure turned its head and held a finger up to its lips. "Sh," it shushed her softly.

"Alright," she replied, glad that she could return to her loving bed and get some much needed sleep. She rubbed her tired eyes and was about to head back to her bed, when a flickering light at the end of the hallway caught her attention. Mary furrowed her brows and debated if she should just ignore it and go back to bed, but she knew that it would keep her up until she fixed it.

She walked towards the flickering light and tapped the glass several times until it finally stopped flickering. "Mh," she hummed. 'It's an older house. Maybe there's something wrong with the wires or the lightbulb needs to be changed,' she tried to justify it. 'There's nothing to worry about,' she assured herself.

She was about to turn around to go back to bed, when a noise coming from downstairs caught her attention. 'Did John forget to turn off the TV?' She wondered and walked down the stairs to shut it off herself so that she could finally get some sleep. A documentary about the Vietnam war was playing on the TV. 'Typical,' she thought. Her ex-marine husband was always watching something about wars and soldiers, especially anything about the Vietnam war.

She suddenly froze when she saw her husband in his blue rope sleeping peacefully in the recliner with the remote still in his hand. She was suddenly wide awake, her face pale, as terror ran through her. "Oh, my God!" She gasped and immediately turned around and ran up the stairs. "Sammy, Sammy!" She called, and although her voice was still quiet, it was filled with fear and panic as she ran into her youngest son's room. She gasped when she saw the figure before she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Their mother's scream woke up Dean and Millie, as well as their father, who let out a panicked gasp. "Mary?" He called, his sleep raddled mind trying to figure out what was happening, but it wasn't long before the soldier, the protector, in him woke up ready to go. "Mary!" He yelled and ran up the stairs, taking two, three steps at a time until he reached the top and then ran into Sam's room, calling out his wife's name one more time.

He opened the door, not even realising that it had never been closed in the first place and called his wife's name again. He looked around the small room, but saw no one was there except for baby Sam. He let out a relieved sigh, slowly coming down from high adrenaline rush high, and walked over to Sam's crib, still breathing hard from the near heart attack he almost had.

"Hey, Sammy," he greeted his son and pulled the gates of his crib down. Sam looked up at his father and gave him a toothless smile. "You okay?" He asked his son smiling before a look of confusion crossed his face. Next to Sammy's head was a drop of what looked like blood, but that wasn't possible.

He reached out to touch it and as he did, three more drops of blood dropped onto the back of his hand. He looked at his hand in confusion before he turned around and looked up. A scream of terror left his mouth. He stumbled back and ended up falling to the ground when he saw his wife on the ceiling. Her white nightdress stained red with blood that came from the dash across her stomach.

Mary looked down at her husband. Her mouth open in a silent scream, her arms were spread out, and her leg was at an awkward angle. She being pinned up there, but how was that possible?

"No! Mary!" He managed to yell before his wife suddenly burst into flames. "No! No, no!" He yelled, his throat raw, but he ignored it. He had to save Mary!

… … ...

"Dean?" Millie asked scared when she heard her father yell.

"It's okay, Millie," he assured her as he got out of bed. He walked over to his sister's bed and pulled down the gate that was there to prevent her from falling out of her bed and hurting herself.

"Why Daddy yelled?" She asked her brother.

"I don't know, Millie, but it's alright. Daddy's a soldier and he'll protec' us," he assured her as he got her out of her bed. "Le's see why Daddy's yelling," he suggested and took his sister's hand and walked out of the room. He froze, however, when he saw a bright light coming from Sammy's room.

"Dean?" Millie asked scared and began to cry.

"It's okay, Millie. I'll protec' you," he promised her, but he didn't move from where he was standing.

… … ...

John seemed to be in a trance as he watched his wife, the love of his life, the mother of his children, burn on the ceiling. Sam's high pitched crying seemed to break the spell, as he quickly got up and grabbed Sam and ran him out of the room.

"Daddy," Dean said when he saw his father carrying Sam in a blue blanket. He wanted to tell his sister that everything was alright now, but he never got the chance.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can," he told him as he handed Sam to Dean. Dean let go of Millie's hand so that he could hold his younger brother. "Don't look back!" He ordered before he turned to his daughter. "Go with your brother, Millie," he told her. When neither child moved, John began to fear that the fire would consume them all before they could get out. "Now, Dean! Go!" He yelled, knowing that as soon as Dean would leave, Millie would be right behind him.

Dean began to run towards the stairs with Millie right behind him. The toddler wasn't as fast or even as stable on her feet as Dean was, so she looked back to her father to silently ask him to carry her. "Go, Millie!" He yelled before he ran back into the burning nursery to save his wife, even though deep down inside he knew that it was too late. "Mary!" He called, the heat and smoke of the fire making it almost impossible for him to breathe. He squinted at the fire, desperately trying to make out the figure of his wife, but the fire seemed to get brighter and brighter. Suddenly, the fire seemed to come alive. John managed to let out a choked "no!" and cover his face with his arms before the flames seemed to shoot right at him and engulf him.

… … ...

"Millie, come on!" Dean yelled. Millie began to walk down the stairs before she sat down and slid down them so that she would be faster. She followed her brother outside of the house and stood next to him crying as he looked up to the window where the nursery once was.

"Daddy!" Millie cried as fat tears ran down her chubby cheeks.

"It's okay, Millie," Dean promised for the too manieth time that night. "It's okay, Sammy," he repeated to his brother, wanting him to know that he would protect him too.

John suddenly ran out of the house and scooped up his kids as he ran away from the house. "I gotcha," he promised them while running. Seconds later, the window of Sam's nursery exploded, causing bursts of fire to come out of them. He ran with them to his black 1967 Chevrolet Impala and sat down on the hood of it.

"I called the fire department. They're on their way," a neighbour told him as the sound of sirens in the distance began to fill the otherwise quiet night. John didn't say anything; he was in too much shock to react. He had just seen his wife die some impossible way.

"Daddy," Millie said crying.

"It's okay, Mills. I got you," he promised her and pulled her closer towards him. "I've got all of you," he promised. A couple minutes later, the Lawrence Fire Department showed up followed by an ambulance and a police car.

The firemen were talking while they were trying to extinguish the fire, trying to figure out the best way to control the fire, but John wasn't paying attention to what they were saying. He was too busy trying to figure out who, no, what could have done that to his wife. Curious neighbours had gotten out of their house and were watching in horror as the house burned down.

"Stay back, stand back. Behind the tape," a police officer ordered as he pushed them back.

John was absentmindedly bouncing Sam in his arms while Dean was repeatedly telling his little sister that everything was going to be alright. John bend down to kiss Sammy's head when he suddenly looked up. He looked up with tears in his eyes, knowing exactly what he had to do.

He had to find whatever did that to his wife and kill it.