Author's Note: Today, as I was playing tennis, I figured out that this is gonna be a really twisted story. Here is chapter three, and so the weirdness begins. Please read and review.
Chapter Three
A gust of wind blew across the room, and the air turned ice cold. "John," the voice said, "Will you please just think of someone but yourself for once?"
Everybody in the room either skimmed the room for the one who spoke, whispered something to the person next to them. Again, the room filled with wind, and John yelled out, hoping that his thoughts about who this person was, were wrong "Who said that?" No answer. "Who said that?" John repeated, louder.
"You're making a big mistake. Think about your boys, about how they feel. Stop thinking only about what you want, what makes you happy. And all that you've done in the past nine years, I can't believe you still can't see what you are about to marry!" the voice was filled with rage, and the person was still not spotted.
"Who are you?" John spat out angrily, Bonnie clinging onto her almost-husband, putting on a horrified face.
"How could you do this to your kids?" the woman shouted, fury blanketing the voice, "After putting your boys through nine years of what could literally be called hell, just like that you move on! Do whatever you want John, but don't you say that you regret it later!"
"Who are you? Dammit!" John bellowed, fury covering up his will to cry. The voice didn't answer. It didn't speak again. The warmth of the room restored, and the crowd acted as if nothing has happened.
"Continue," John told Jim. Jim Murphy said nothing; he just stared from John, to Dean and Sam, then to Bonnie. "Continue!" John grumbled, "That wasn't even a reason!"
"You're just gonna ignore that?" pastor Jim sighed, "I know you know who that was."
"I said continue," John barked.
"Alright," Jim muttered reluctantly, "I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." John did. While he had that lasting kiss, John didn't think about what he and his sons had waiting for them.
Everyone was seated around the table, feasting. John and Bonnie sat at the head of the food-filled table, where the gigantic cake was the centerpiece. By step-aunt Harley's planning, of course, Sam and Dean ended up sitting on completely different sides of the table from each other. Dean with Harley, and Sam with their step-grandma.
"Sammy, sweetheart, why don't you have some of that delicious roast chicken?" the pale, old lady asked. If she wouldn't talk so much, she could have easily be been considered dead.
"No thank you," Sam said dryly, "And my name is Sam." Only Dean can call me Sammy, he thought.
"If ya say so, darling," she replied, patting the nine-year-old boy on the head. Sam shuddered.
"Let's cut the cake!" Bonnie squealed.
"Good idea, dear," John replied, reaching for the knife. Before John could get a hold of the large, golden, butcher's knife that was selected to cut the cake, the knife flew up into the air, and straight at Bonnie. It slashed straight into Bonnie's stomach, making the bride drop her glass. The people gasped, some screaming, some even falling off their chairs.
"BONNIE!" John yelled, turning to his new wife, wrapping his arms around her.
Bonnie pulled back, and reached for the knife. She dug it out from her stomach, and held it up. Not a drop of blood was on the shiny knife. "Everything is alright!" she announced happily, and the party went on.
The voice was right, Dean thought, Bonnie is like something we hunt.
"I'd like to say a toast," Harley said, and raised her glass, "To the wonderful newlyweds. These obstacles you've been through today, terrible work of the people who don't want you to be together, don't let that stop you from remembering this day as the most amazing day of your lives. Don't let anybody get in the way of your happy future together, and may you both live in happiness, eternal love, loyalty… and may your wishes all come true."
"Oh, thank you Harley, that speech was beautiful," Bonnie chirped.
"Beautiful? That's the most horrifying thing I've ever heard"Dean said through gritted teeth, "Of course, aside from Bonnie's voice."
"What was that, Dean, you want to make a toast too?" Harley smiled at him wickedly.
"Sure," Dean murmured as he raised his glass, "Dad, I hope you're happy. I hope you have a good time forgetting everything that's ever mattered to you before. I hope you enjoy screwing that evil bi – " Harley clapped a hand over Dean's mouth, and dragged out of the room.
She pushed him to the wall, keeping the thirteen-year-old boy in place with her leg. "You little asshole, don't you talk at a table like that!" Harley's grip around Dean's neck tightened.
And then, it came. The voice that talked earlier, "You bitch, don't you talk to my son like that!"
