Chapter One
Eight years later...
The leaves blew around the small Minnesota town like tiny slips of paper all containing notes written to Mother Nature herself. It was a cool fall day, the residents of Blue Earth choosing to wear sightly thicker jackets if they dared venture out.
The high school had just let out for the day and a boy of eighteen was beginning his walk home, his backpack heavy and his step light. His burnt orange jacket laid over his plaid flannel and a plain black T-shirt. His jeans were a bit short in the legs since his recent growth spurt and his black Converse were scuffed and worn, but nevertheless loved.
The teenager was Sam Murphy.
It had been a long time since he went by the surname Winchester and had since been changed ever since what happened when he was ten. He didn't remember much, if any, of the event that took place. Doctors chalked that up to trauma, but John Winchester was glad for it, whatever they wanted to call it. After he had found his oldest son going crazy on his youngest, he had separated them. He had known how much Sam had wanted a normal life, so it seemed to be for the best that he sent him to live with an old friend by the name of Jim Murphy.
Jim was a pastor in Minnesota who had happily taken in the young Sam Winchester, knife scar and all. It had been just the two of them for the past eight years. Sam attended church every Wednesday and Sunday, was a youth group leader, helped around the church everywhere he could, and went overseas during spring breaks with Jim on missionary trips. He was honor roll, a straight-A student, and well-liked. Sam was the chess club president and the captain of the debate team. Just last week he had received his acceptance letter from Stanford University where he would major in religious studies. He was already a pastor-in-training and was excited to get a degree so one day he would run the church as Jim had.
Everything in Sam's life was perfect.
WwWwWw
"Hey, Jim," Sam said, entering the warm house. He kicked his shoes off at the door and removed his jacket, hanging it up on the hook in the mudroom.
"Hello, Samuel. How was school?" Pastor Jim asked from the kitchen, having to shout a bit to be heard over the heater.
"It was alright. I got a B+ on the math test," Sam admitted, making his way into the kitchen to meet Jim.
"Hey, that's pretty good! You struggle in calculus!"
Sam nodded in agreement and shifted the weight of his backpack, looking to see what Jim was cooking.
"Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours," Jim replied as if he read Sam's mind. "You can start on your homework and then take Bones for a walk."
"Sounds good," Sam said, whistling for the aforementioned dog to follow him into his room to "help" with psychology homework.
"He better stay off the bed," Jim said in a jokingly-threatening manor.
"The good doctor always stays off the bed," Sam replied in mock-hurtness.
The door closed behind Sam and Bones immediately climbed onto Sam's made bed, the golden retriever's head resting against Sam's pillow. Sam laid his hand on top of the dog's head, petting him softly.
"I don't want to do my work," he said.
Sam had no idea that right outside his window he was being watched.