This is and isn't a one shot story… It could be considered a prequel to 'Behind Closed Doors' as the references made in both that story and 'Kindred to the Devil' about Mary's family refer to this incident. Or you could just consider it a one shot.
One additional note: This is an AU story and in it, John's introduction to the demon hunting world came from Pastor Jim. Although she is not in the story, in my storyline, Missouri and John met when he arrived at the priest's house. Phoenix
-Teething Pain-
The Story
The man held the crying baby and sighed. God this was so hard. Why did everything have to be so much harder now? Couldn't they – for once – catch a break?
He didn't blame the infant, knowing that the child was not doing this on purpose, but it didn't make it any easier.
At eight months old, little Sammy was late cutting his first tooth and suffering horribly. His father had tried just about every kind of gumming device and topical teething remedy but nothing seemed to help. He had even considered consulting a witch doctor… if he knew where to find one.
But still his little boy wailed for hours each night until he was too exhausted to cry anymore – this was the third sleepless night in the row.
Behind him, he heard the sound of a door opening and sighed again. Dean was awake. The man was a little surprised that his older son hadn't shown up earlier as the boy normally hovered over the baby and had done so since their mother's death two months earlier.
Tomorrow, the boy turned five and John had really hoped for a peaceful night prior to that special day. But it wasn't meant to be…
"Daddy?" the child asked, standing in the doorway and watching his father through almost translucent green eyes as the man paced the floor with the inconsolable child. His voice was so soft, as if he was afraid making any noise would cause the baby further discomfort. "Why's Sammy crying?'
John bit his tongue to keep from snapping at the silliness of the question.
Every night for the past three nights, Dean asked, and every night for the past three nights, John answered. "He's teething, little man."
"Oh," the boy said; his sorrowful eyes wide in sympathy as he looked at his red faced brother. Sammy settled for a moment against his father's strong shoulder and John almost let out a sigh of relief, hoping that the pain might have somehow abated for the little one. But no such thing – the baby was only pausing, taking a breather and then he started again. But this time the plaintive wail lacked its usual gusto – the poor thing was exhausted.
"I wish Mommy was here," the sad little whisper cut John to the quick and he flinched. "She'd know what to do."
"So do I," he murmured and then glanced at the time – 3:18 am – his sigh was a deep and mournful sound. "Go back to bed Dean. It's late."
The child paused in the doorway and then turned and left. John felt guilty for sending the boy away but there was nothing Dean could do right now and at least one member of his fractured family should get some sleep.
"Oh Mary," he whispered; his lips pressed against the fretting baby's soft hair, "we need you so much."
The child stilled in his arms at the sound of his mother's name, and then whimpered and snuggled against his father as if afraid. The man wondered if the baby – the only witness – recalled his mother's death; burned alive on the ceiling above his crib…. To the very bottom of his soul, John prayed that he didn't. It was bad enough that his own dreams were plagued with visions of Mary's death, his sons need not be.
"Ssshhh, Sammy, ssshhh," the man whispered feeling the small body slowly relaxing against him as the fierce pain in the baby's gums finally gave him a break.
Ten minutes later, John was able to leave the small room. The child was sleeping. He wished this tooth would hurry up and come through, not recalling Dean ever having had such a hard time. Part of him wondered if the child was somehow doing this on purpose – withholding that precious milestone – waiting for his mother to return – and then he shook his head.
Sammy was only a baby, an innocent, and had no control over things like that.
Pausing outside Dean's room, John peeked his head in around the door and saw the little boy was asleep lying on top of his covers. Moving stealthily into the room, the man pulled the blanket up and then stared down at the young face, so serene when lost in slumber.
Dean had withdrawn so much since his mother's death that if it were not for the baby, John was afraid his son would have become a shadow by now. The child rarely spoke anymore unless it was to Sammy or about Sammy – such a disquieting change in his normally vocal little chatterbox.
"I heard the baby," a soft voice behind the man spoke, not startling him as he'd heard her moving down the stairs.
John and the boys were staying in the basement of his in-laws house until things could be sorted out with the insurance, and he could find somewhere more permanent for them to live.
It wasn't his most favorite arrangement but right now it was the best alternative and having the children around them seemed to ease the grief for Mary's parents. She had been their older child and they were taking her death very hard.
They did have another daughter but something had driven a wedge between her and the rest of her family and John had yet to meet her.
"His teeth again?" the woman asked as she waited for John to come out of Dean's room.
The man nodded, "Yeah."
"Poor little thing," she commented and he sighed.
"Yeah," he repeated. He started to walk by his mother-in-law when she snagged his arm and spoke gently.
"Please John, reconsider our offer. We only want to help."
"I know," and he did.
"We just want what's best for Mary's sons."
At this, he gently pulled his arm away from her and headed towards his own room at the foot of the stairs. It was a blessing that Eleanor and Ken Burritt had such a big house with a fully finished basement, complete with three small guestrooms. He paused at his door and said sadly, "They're my sons too… and all I have left."
"I know," was all the older woman said.
ooooooOOOOOOoooooo
The man was tired. This was not how he had hoped to spend his son's fifth birthday, and it took every thing he had just to get out of bed. His body was heavy and sluggish. But this was Dean's special day and he knew Mary would never forgive him if he didn't at least make some attempt.
His heart was especially heavy as this day was wrapped in so many memories of his wife – the love of his life who became a mother for the first time, five years ago today. Who could have ever imagined that exuberant day that she would only have a few short years with her firstborn, and even less with her second child.
Sammy was standing in the crib looking at him with a wide smile that tore at his heart. For one brief moment he was sure he saw disappointment on that expressive face when the child saw his father instead of his mother…
Forcing a smile past a lump in his throat, the young father picked up the child and gave him a hug. "Morning, baby Sammy," he said as the child squirmed and laughed. He was such a happy baby. Well during the daytime anyway.
The infant cooed and worked his charm on his father as John changed his diaper and put him in a new sleeper. A silent presence slipped into the room and moved towards the changing table.
The baby squealed in delight when he saw his brother and the look that crossed Dean's face at the recognition, brought tears to their father's eye. Hastily he blinked them away and passed the baby to the little boy. "Sit in the rocker," he said gruffly, hiding his near breakdown at seeing that precious moment between his children. "I'll get the bottle."
Dean immediately shimmed his behind into the rocker, holding his brother and making funny faces at the babe. Sam's whole body wriggled with delight and for one moment John worried that his older son might drop the baby, but then he shook his head at the thought. 'No way', he told himself, 'Dean would never let his brother fall…'
He had no logic to back up that strong thought. It was just something he knew. A father's intuition, he guessed. If he even had any, that was.
Moving into the kitchen, John said a quiet good morning to Eleanor as she glanced up from something she was beating in a mixing bowl.
"Good morning John," the pleasantry was strained. "I'm making pancakes – where's Dean?" She added noticing the little boy's absence.
John reached for a clean baby bottle and started to prepare his younger son's morning bottle. "With the baby."
"You know it's not healthy for him to spend so much with Sammy. Dean needs to play with children his own age." The man bristled under his mother-in-law's tone and fought to keep his own response neutral.
"He just lost his mother." John stated, "I don't think it's unreasonable for him to want to spend time with the family he has left. Sammy is the last thing we have of Mary's; her most precious gift for us to remember her by." He didn't bother to look at Eleanor to feel the pain that those words inflicted on her, but he didn't care right now. Right now he had enough to do with his children – the adults in his life would have to take care of them selves.
"You really are a selfish bastard aren't you?" the woman shot at him and then hurried out of the kitchen before he had a chance to respond.
John sighed as he pressed his hands on the edge of the counter and lowered his head. Why couldn't it have been him that the monster had taken? He was sure that it would have been a hell of a lot easier on everyone if it was Mary who'd been left behind.
Shoving the thought to the back of his mind, John took the bottle and went downstairs.
ooooooOOOOOOoooooo
The rest of the day was similarly strained. Eleanor had planned a small party for Dean and John had gone to the bar, leaving the woman to bask in the limelight as the poor boy's doting grandmother.
As he nursed a beer, his mood darkened and he thought about the 'generous' offer his in-laws had made with regards to the children. They wanted to raise their daughter's sons.
Taking another sip, the man wondered if things had been different – in other words if Mary's parents had ever treated him with a modicum of respect – if he would seriously consider their offer.
But in truth, he was terrified. Something had killed his wife and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was just lying in wait for him to let his guard down so it could take his sons as well.
It bothered the man to no end that a beast had been in his baby's room. What the hell was it doing there? What did it want?
And an even more frightening thought – did it get what it wanted? Or would it be back?
John had no doubts about his own ability to protect his sons – he would die to keep them safe. But he just wasn't so sure about his in-laws. Yes they loved the boys and would try to keep them out of harms way, but the man doubted they could understand just what the true harm might be.
What if it was a creature that pinned you to the ceiling, eviscerated you, and left you to burn, bleeding on your infant's bed? Could his aging in-laws protect his sons from that?
No. Hell they'd have to believe in what happened first… and that was half the battle.
A man John had never met before slid into the chair across from him and extended a hand. His face was friendly, "John Winchester? My name is Father Jim."
'Oh great,' John thought even as he shook the man's hand, 'just what I need. A priest.'
ooooooOOOOOOoooooo
Eleanor Burritt peaked into Sammy's room to check on the napping baby and was surprised to see her older grandson sitting in the rocking chair next to the crib, looking at a picture book.
She recognized it as one of the gifts he had just gotten.
"Hey," she said, in a hushed voice as she crouched down in front of the little boy, "I wondered where you got to." She extended a hand, "Come on, I think there's still some cake left upstairs." The partygoers had left about fifteen minutes earlier, and Dean had disappeared shortly afterwards; to come down here, she realized when she saw her grandson.
"I'm okay," the quiet voice said and the woman's heart ached for the depth of sadness she saw in the moss green eyes. He had so much of her daughter in him…
"Come on Dean," she persisted, taking his hand, "let your brother sleep." The child resisted, pulling away from her.
"No Nanna," he said, shaking his head, "I don't want to go."
"Dean," her voice was more stern now. She had had quite enough of this foolishness. "Now."
Behind them the baby stirred, reacting to the raised voice.
The woman tried to change her tactic, "Let's go sweetie. Your brother needs his sleep – "
Dean didn't look too convinced and she continued, "Come on Dean – your mommy always said what a good boy you are. You don't want to make me think she was making that up, now do you?" It was a low blow but Eleanor was not above doing what she had to. In her heart she firmly believed it was unhealthy for Dean to spend his time like this.
A torn look wobbled across the little boys face and then he slowly nodded and let himself be led from the baby's room, casting a final look over his shoulder at his sleeping brother before his grandmother closed the door. And in that one instant, the five year old was shocked to find a sliver of anger beat through his young heart… at his grandmother for closing that door.
Behind them the infant stirred, his soft brow wrinkled as if detecting his brother's departure. With a soft whimper, he found his thumb, started sucking it and drifted into a deeper sleep.
Outside the basement window, yellow eyes watched with great interest. The baby was alone…
ooooooOOOOOOoooooo
John Winchester drove back to his in-laws house a bit more quickly than usual. His mind was abuzz with the secrets the priest had told him about, and for the first time since Mary's death, the man felt a renewed vigor for life.
"There are dark things among us," the priest had disclosed, "the devil's minions that stalk the children of the light. Things like vampires, banshees, poltergeists… demons."
The man's eyes burned with the memory of his wife's fiery death.
"Creatures that turn nurseries into nightmares… and there are men who walk this earth to destroy them."
'Men like me', John had vowed. This priest who had heard of Mary's death believed him when the grieving husband spoke of ceiling sacrifices, and offered him something he had not even considered before; a way to seek justice on the creature that had ripped the heart out of his family…. If he was willing.
"I have a library," the man of God had confided, "a monsters library." He had given John a simple white card with his name, address and cell number on it. "You are welcome any time…hunter."
"My sons-" John had paused torn between finding this thing that killed his wife and his children. How could he hunt it down with two small kids around his ankles? Dean maybe. But Sammy was a baby.
"Bring them," Father Jim had offered, and then lowered his voice, "do not be so foolhardy as to think that this is over, John. That creature was in your son's room…" He had not had to finish the thought that echoed John's own from time to time.
Now came the hard part; telling his in-laws that they would be leaving. All of them.
ooooooOOOOOOoooooo
Dean fidgeted. He didn't want any cake. He didn't want to talk to his grandmother about the party, or see his grandfather's bunions… whatever a bunion was. He just wanted to go back down to the basement and wait for Sammy to wake up.
As the minutes dragged on, the child felt a pressing urgency. And when he finally heard his father's car in the driveway, he let out a sigh of relief. Moments later when the older man burst into the kitchen and asked Dean to give him some time alone with the boy's grandparents, the child had practically flown down the stairs.
What he saw when he entered his little brother's room was something that would haunt him for the rest of his life…
There sitting on baby Sammy's chest was the largest, mangiest looking cat-like thing that the boy had ever seen. The creature had its face pressed against his brothers and as a horrified Dean watched, it seemed to be drawing the very breath from the baby.
Sucking in a lungful of air, the little boy screamed as loud as he could, "DADDY!"
…
John Winchester had never moved so fast in his life. That one word held so much horror that he instinctively grabbed a sharp knife from the counter butcher block as he moved.
He heard his in-laws following as he crashed into the baby's room and saw the cat-like creature attacking Sammy. With no time for shock, the man grabbed Dean and shoved him into the hall as the creature made for the window with a speed that terrified.
Without thinking, John threw the knife – hoping against hope that his aim was still true, after all he'd been out of the military for a while now… It was.
The sharp knife hit the creature between the shoulder blades as it leapt out the window; a horrifying shriek filled the night as it went down.
Yelling, "Check Sammy," at a stunned Eleanor, John raced back up the stairs and outside. He had to make sure the creature that had threatened his family was dead.
It was.
The man crouched down by the body of the oversized cat looking creature and frowned. "What the hell is it?" a voice behind him asked and John looked up to see his father-in-law, Ken, standing just behind him.
"A creature," was the best the younger man could come up with.
Ken shuddered but before he could say anything else, a piercing scream came from Sammy's room.
"JOHN!"
For the second time in so many minutes, the young father made lighting speed back down the stairs and into his younger son's room. His heart just about stopped when he saw his mother-in-law holding a limp Sammy as Dean stared on, his face so white he looked like he was going to pass out.
"He's dead!" the woman wailed but John refused to believe her.
"No!" he bellowed, "He can't be!" He would not let him be. No, John refused to lose his son. Not Mary's baby. No.
Grabbing the lifeless baby from the distraught woman, John gently lay the little body on the floor and as carefully as he could, started CPR.
Pleasesammybreathe…pleasesammybreathe…comebacksoncomeback… His mind frantically repeated over and over again as he breathed for his baby and then pressed on the thin chest, willing the small heart to start beating again.
He was vaguely aware of Dean kneeling down next to him and John's whole focus became them. Breathing for Sammy and feeling Dean's fear…. And then the little boy reached out and touched his brother.
"Sammy-" he whispered, his voice choked and so young sounding it wrenched at John's soul… the baby breathed. And then coughed and then cried.
"Oh God Sammy," John sobbed pulling the now wailing child to his chest and holding him tight. He had never thought he would be so relieved to hear his son crying before. Smiling through his blurring vision at Dean, John opened his arm and pulled him into his embrace as well. They were safe. His children were safe.
Looking up at his in-laws standing shell-shocked and silent behind them, John cleared his throat and then just said. "We're leaving in the morning. Me… and the boys."
Eleanor opened her mouth to protest but then stopped. She glanced back at the open window and shuddered. "What was that?" she asked; her voice not as strong as usual.
"That Eleanor," John stated, "is something you can't protect my family from." He paused and then added. "But I can."
…
In the morning, John Winchester placed the infant car seat in the back of his 1967 black Chevy Impala, carefully checked to make sure it was in secure and then put a gurgling baby Sammy in the seat. The littlest Winchester waved his arms around, a wide smile on his face as his brother climbed into his own booster seat and waited for his father to restrain him too. The smile got wider and Dean's eyes widened in shock.
"Daddy!" the five year old exclaimed excitedly, "Sammy's got his first tooth!"
John's head snapped up from the seatbelt he had been securing around Dean and then grinned. His son was right.
"Well… I'll be," the man said reaching out and stroking the baby's soft cheek. "He'll be eating steak yet!"
"Daddy-" the warning note in his older son's voice made the man laugh. And it felt good.
He had no idea where the path he had chosen for his family would lead them. But he was confident that as long as they looked out for each other, they would be fine.
After all they were Winchesters… like the rifle and twice as deadly.
-The End-