And Run to Meet What He Would Most Avoid
Character: John Winchester [Supernatural]
Date Written: November 16, 2008
John doesn't even consider going back to the house until he's at the insurance office and they ask for Mary's social security number. He can't remember it and despite the sympathetic looks from the aging secretary, he knows there's no avoiding going back now. Mary's parents are long dead and the cousin of hers, Sandy, who's been watching the boys, certainly isn't going to know it. So he leaves the office and drives slowly across town, dread filling his stomach every mile of the way.
When they bought the house, Mary insisted on putting a fire-proof safe in their closet. At the time, John argued against the expense but caved in the face of his wife's pleading eyes. Now he supposes it made sense. He won't have to go asking after copies of the boys' birth certificates or immunization records. More importantly, he won't have lost Dean's first quarter report card from kindergarten or Sam's hospital bracelet or the hand-drawn card Mary made them for their first anniversary. He'll have tangible evidence that he once had a beautiful life.
The safe is about the only thing left intact in the bedroom. John's hands shake as he twists the combination lock and he has to do it three times before it finally pops open. He takes the papers and mementos out and gently places them in a paper grocery bag. Although he wants to linger over each memory, he doesn't. When the last of it is safely tucked away, he moves to shut the door, but something catches his eye. It's a little silver catch at the back that almost looks like a latch. He tugs at it and finds a hidden compartment.
Out tumbles a heavy envelope with his name scrawled on the front, the sight of which makes John's heart clench and his throat go dry. He picks it up and turns it over to open it, his fingers brushing a wax seal which he scrapes up with a fingernail. The letter inside is dated the night before their wedding and John expects it to be some sentimental thing but it's not that at all. His eyes jump over the words, not able to read the whole thing at once because it's too much, it's too big, it changes everything.
If you're reading this, I'm dead.
We're going to have a child, but he won't just be any child. I had to sacrifice him to save you.
Azazel has plans for this child and all the other children like him. You have to keep him safe, John.
Missouri Moseley will know what to do next.
John drops the letter as though it's bitten him. He keeps thinking that his Mary couldn't have written this. It's completely insane. He shakes out the rest of the contents of the envelope. There's a small vial of what looks like water, a leather pouch filled with salt and a miniature book in what looks like Latin. The final object inside the envelope is a leather journal, blank except for an inscription on the first page.
"Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep." -Milton
To our darling Mary, light of our life. Remember the words which keep you safe.
He traces his finger over the letters thinking it has to be Mary's mother's handwriting with all the graceful loops. As his fingers trail farther down, he feels strange bumps against the parchment. When he holds up the page to the sunlight, he can see the vague outline of something on the page, but can't figure it out. He re-reads the quote, blinks, and then takes out a lighter from his pocket, back-lighting the page. It's all in Latin; he only recognizes a few words from songs in church.
The lighter flicks off and John just sits there in the ruin of his house. He knows he should take all this back to the insurance office to file the paperwork, he should go see his boys, find a new house, make as little disruption to the boys' world as possible, but he can't. Instead, he picks everything up and hurries out to his car.
At a gas station, he calls Sandy and says he'll be gone for a few days. She protests and he can hear Sammy crying in the background, but he mumbles an apology and hangs up. Information only has one Moseley on record. He scribbles down the address on the back of the envelope and takes a deep breath.
This is the point of no return; he can feel it in his bones, but Mary left him this information for a reason and he's never been able to deny her anything. He'll follow this path she left for him, groping blindly in the dark for something to stitch his heart back together, to quell the anger rising in his gut, to beat back the waves of despair.
She made the choice to save him and now he has no choice but to save them all.
Date Written: November 16, 2008
John doesn't even consider going back to the house until he's at the insurance office and they ask for Mary's social security number. He can't remember it and despite the sympathetic looks from the aging secretary, he knows there's no avoiding going back now. Mary's parents are long dead and the cousin of hers, Sandy, who's been watching the boys, certainly isn't going to know it. So he leaves the office and drives slowly across town, dread filling his stomach every mile of the way.
When they bought the house, Mary insisted on putting a fire-proof safe in their closet. At the time, John argued against the expense but caved in the face of his wife's pleading eyes. Now he supposes it made sense. He won't have to go asking after copies of the boys' birth certificates or immunization records. More importantly, he won't have lost Dean's first quarter report card from kindergarten or Sam's hospital bracelet or the hand-drawn card Mary made them for their first anniversary. He'll have tangible evidence that he once had a beautiful life.
The safe is about the only thing left intact in the bedroom. John's hands shake as he twists the combination lock and he has to do it three times before it finally pops open. He takes the papers and mementos out and gently places them in a paper grocery bag. Although he wants to linger over each memory, he doesn't. When the last of it is safely tucked away, he moves to shut the door, but something catches his eye. It's a little silver catch at the back that almost looks like a latch. He tugs at it and finds a hidden compartment.
Out tumbles a heavy envelope with his name scrawled on the front, the sight of which makes John's heart clench and his throat go dry. He picks it up and turns it over to open it, his fingers brushing a wax seal which he scrapes up with a fingernail. The letter inside is dated the night before their wedding and John expects it to be some sentimental thing but it's not that at all. His eyes jump over the words, not able to read the whole thing at once because it's too much, it's too big, it changes everything.
If you're reading this, I'm dead.
We're going to have a child, but he won't just be any child. I had to sacrifice him to save you.
Azazel has plans for this child and all the other children like him. You have to keep him safe, John.
Missouri Moseley will know what to do next.
John drops the letter as though it's bitten him. He keeps thinking that his Mary couldn't have written this. It's completely insane. He shakes out the rest of the contents of the envelope. There's a small vial of what looks like water, a leather pouch filled with salt and a miniature book in what looks like Latin. The final object inside the envelope is a leather journal, blank except for an inscription on the first page.
"Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep." -Milton
To our darling Mary, light of our life. Remember the words which keep you safe.
He traces his finger over the letters thinking it has to be Mary's mother's handwriting with all the graceful loops. As his fingers trail farther down, he feels strange bumps against the parchment. When he holds up the page to the sunlight, he can see the vague outline of something on the page, but can't figure it out. He re-reads the quote, blinks, and then takes out a lighter from his pocket, back-lighting the page. It's all in Latin; he only recognizes a few words from songs in church.
The lighter flicks off and John just sits there in the ruin of his house. He knows he should take all this back to the insurance office to file the paperwork, he should go see his boys, find a new house, make as little disruption to the boys' world as possible, but he can't. Instead, he picks everything up and hurries out to his car.
At a gas station, he calls Sandy and says he'll be gone for a few days. She protests and he can hear Sammy crying in the background, but he mumbles an apology and hangs up. Information only has one Moseley on record. He scribbles down the address on the back of the envelope and takes a deep breath.
This is the point of no return; he can feel it in his bones, but Mary left him this information for a reason and he's never been able to deny her anything. He'll follow this path she left for him, groping blindly in the dark for something to stitch his heart back together, to quell the anger rising in his gut, to beat back the waves of despair.
She made the choice to save him and now he has no choice but to save them all.