1.3 The Woman In White: A Supernatural Fan Fiction

PROLOGUE: Lawrence, Kansas - 22 Years Ago

Pale and spidery against the inky black sky, a dying tree feebly outstretched its dry, brittle branches towards stars masked by a veil of clouds and darkness. There was a time when this tree had been vibrant and grand, flourishing with life. But now it stood bleak and lifeless, a listless sentry in the front yard of John and Mary Winchester's home.

Unbeknownst to its sleepy inhabitants, a powerful evil gripped that place. It drew in the darkness like a shawl, dragging the shadows along with it. Shadows of the tree's bony sprigs crept and slunk, making their way across the contours of the house, towards the warm, light-flooded window.

"Come on, let's say good night to your brother." Mary Winchester murmured to her son, who sat perched happily on her hip as she flicked on the light in the baby's room. In his crib, her youngest squirmed and cooed in his blankets, excited by the presence of his mother. Placing the child in her arms gently on the floor so that he could run up to the edge of the crib, Mary stood back a moment to watch as her sons interacted in the enchanting way that only children can, strung together by a brotherly bond that neither of them fully understood.

"Good night, Sam!" the older boy said contentedly, leaning over the railing to plant a gentle and practiced, yet genuinely affectionate kiss on the baby's fleecy head. "Good night, love." Mary whispered, placed a hand between her son's shoulder blades as she also leaned down to press her lips tenderly to Sam's forehead.

"Hey, Dean." Said a voice behind him, and the older boy's head whipped around to see his father standing casually in the doorway.

"Daddy!" Dean exclaimed in delight, running from the crib and into his father's welcoming arms. John hoisted him up into the air, smiling appraisingly.

"Hey, buddy! What do you think?" He asked, propping Dean on his side with a nod of his head towards Sam. "Do you think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?"

"No, daddy." Dean giggled, shaking his head and causing his soft blonde hair to bounce. John made a lofty sound of mock disappointment for his boy's entertainment as Mary returned across the room.

"You got him?" She asked softly, smiling.

"I got him." John assured her as she passed by him, walking out of the room. Shifting his grip on Dean so that his son wrapped an arm more securely around his shoulders, John murmured, "Sweet dreams, Sam," and began to walk from the room. As Dean slumped sleepily against his shoulder, John turned out the light and left the bedroom.

Little Sammy cooed softly in the darkness of his room, his mind filled with those mysterious thoughts that babies keep hidden from the rest of the world as he prepared to sleep. A clock ticked quietly away on the wall, beckoning in the coming midnight, and Sam's mobil turned gently above him.

Suddenly the monotonous ticking halted, leaving a powerfully uneasy silence in its wake. The crescent moon-shaped nightlight glowing on the wall flickered until finally it went out.

In her bedroom, Mary awoke to the sound of Sam's tentative cries, accompanied by a whining feedback through the baby monitor. Squinting through the darkness of the room, she looked past the photograph of her and John perched on her nightstand and at the red lines indicating the noise, then propped herself half-up on one elbow and turned on the light. She pursed her lips, beginning to twist to look behind her.

"John..." she murmured sleepily, then made a face when she saw that his side of the bed was empty. Reluctantly detangling herself from the covers, Mary headed out of her room and towards the baby's, wearily rubbing her eyes. When she turned the corner, she saw an outline of a man against the moonlight shining opaquely against Sammy's window curtains.