A Torn Family

Prologue

"Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother and sister." Mary Winchester carried her four year old son, Dean, into the nursery. She flicked on the light and set him gently on the floor at which point he climbed onto the railing of the crib the new twins shared. Mary smiled warmly as Dean leaned into the crib placing a short kiss to the forehead of each of his siblings, wishing them a good night.

"Good night, love." She said to Sam, her son, following Dean's routine.

"Good night, angel." She whispered to her daughter, Lucille.

"Hey, Dean." Her husband John announced his presence from the door. Dean ran up to his father, and John hoisted him up into his arms. "What do you think? Do you think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?"

"No, Daddy." Dean shook his head at the silly suggestion.

"What about Lucy. Is she ready to play with us?"

"No," Dean frowned at the thought. "It's too dangerous. Lucy's never gonna play."

Mary and John exchanged looks over Dean's shoulder, their hearts absolutely melting at the affectionate comment from their four year old. Mary brushed John's shoulder gently as she left the room, and John pulled Dean into a tight hug.

"Sweet dreams, Sam." John smiled at his youngest child.

"Goodnight, Lucille." John turned to his only daughter, who was only minutes older than her twin brother. John shot his twins one more sweet look before turning and flipping off the lights in their nursery, and carrying Dean to his own bedroom.

The little twins met eyes after their family had left the room. Even at their young age, the two had an unexplainable bond. Lucille moved her tiny feet to rest on top of Sam's and he wiggled his toes at the contact. Lucy closed her big eyes, satisfied with their unspoken goodnight, but Sam remained awake. He stared at the mobile over their crib, finding himself unable to sleep for some reason.

***

Later that night, Mary woke up to the sound of a baby crying. It could have been either of them, but her mother's intuition told her it was Sam. She flicked on the light, mumbling her husband's name, only to find he wasn't in bed.

She rolled out of bed and made her way to the nursery, to find a man standing over the crib.
"John, is he hungry?" Mary asked, still half asleep. She was shushed by the man she assumed to be her husband. Annoyed, she mumbled a sarcastic "okay," and made her way back to her bedroom. Hoping to catch a few more hours of sleep.
A flickering light caught her attention, and she made her way down the stairs to find the television on. As she looked for the remote, she found her husband snoring in front of the television, and was immediately filled with dread.

Who was in her children's nursery?

Terrified, she ran back up the stairs to protect her kids.

A scream let loose from her mouth, waking John from his sleep. He called his wife's name, and when he got no response, he too ran up the stairs, following the sound of her voice. The chase led him into the nursery of his two youngest children, to find nothing.

Both his children lay in their crib. Lucille was sound asleep and Sam was awake, but completely unharmed. John's relief faded to confusion when he realized something dripping onto the pillow beside his son's head. When he reached to find out what it was, two more dark red drops landed on his knuckles.

John turned up towards the ceiling, to find the source of the drip, and when he found it, his shock knocked him down to the floor. His wife was flat against the ceiling, her eyes afraid, and her mouth wide open. He called for her, and her body completely burst into flames, which quickly spread.
Sam's happy giggles turned to cries, waking Lucy from her peaceful slumber. She too started to cry when she recognized the fright in her brother's cries. John snapped out of his trance, and scooped up both of his babies, carrying them into the hallway.

"Daddy," Dean had woken up in the commotion, and John found he had wandered out of his room. He wasn't particularly scared, he had no reason to be, but he wanted to know what was going on. He knew it was late at night, and that his parents and siblings should all be asleep.

"Take your siblings outside as fast as you can!" John forced the two babies into the arms of his oldest child. Dean paused in confusion, but John didn't have time to explain. "Don't look back. Now, Dean, Go!"

Scared by his father's tone, Dean turned and ran as quickly as any four year old holding two babies could possibly go. The fact that he didn't drop his siblings was truly remarkable. He made his way down the stairs and out the front door, somehow speeding up when he heard his father call his mother's name.

When Dean thought he was a good distance from his house, he paused to comfort his siblings. Glancing back up at the house he could see the glow from the nursery, but refused to be afraid. He was the oldest, it was his job to keep his siblings safe.

His father caught him off guard, practically flying out of the house, and scooping Dean up in his arms. Startled, Dean almost dropped his little sister, but he recovered quickly, holding onto her even tighter. Dean had no choice but to watch over his dad's shoulder, as the entire second story of his house exploded into flames.

And at that moment, Dean realized his mother wasn't with them.

The fire raged for many hours, though fire trucks arrived just minutes after the Winchesters stumbled out of the burning house. Lucy started to cry soon after, and Dean started towards the still burning house, determined to retrieve the stuffed dog, that she no doubt wanted. John had to hold him back. He kept the little family together, and shoved Sam into Dean's arms, ordering the young boy to stay seated unless he was told otherwise.

The sound of sirens pounded in young Dean's ears, and for the first time since his siblings were born, Dean found himself wanting to cry. He sat beside his father on the hood of their car, cradling his baby brother, while his father held tightly to Lucy. Many of his neighbors had wandered onto the street, and police officers held them back from the dying flames.

That was when Dean learned what it was to experience true loss. He was about to surrender to the tears fighting to leak from his eyes, when he heard his brother starting to fuss. He gently offered up his ring finger to his brother, who happily accepted. Dean smiled slightly and watched in awe as his baby brother played happily on his finger.

"It's okay, Sam." He whispered to his little brother. "We'll take care of you, right Dad." He looked over at his dad, who could only stare heartbrokenly at their house. Dean looked sadly back to his little brother. "Well, I'll take care of you, Sammy. I won't let anything bad happen to you." He looked over at the bundle that his sister slept in. "I won't let anything happen to either of you."