Winchesters (Supernatural Fanfiction/Genderswap)

Prologue

Author's note:

If you're just starting to read this fanfiction, awesome! I so hope you like it. Also, I claim nothing but my own ability to string this together. All characters (though genderbent) belong to the great and all-knowing (haha, they wish) writers of Supernatural, a CW television series that has been my favorite show since it came out. No copyright is intended. Thanks.

*****

It all started in Lawrence, Kansas, twenty two years ago. It was a quiet night in a quiet place. The crickets chirped in the yard and a little, pig-tailed, four year old girl with big eyes peeked at her baby sister- only six months old -in her wooden crib.

"Deanna, say goodnight to sissy," her mother, Mary Winchester, said. They were the same: dirty blond hair, joy-filled eyes the color of green gems, sun-kissed cheeks and freckles. Deanna would grow up looking just like her mother.

"Night, Sammy," Deanna said, planting a small kiss on her sister's forehead.

Their mother came over to kiss her youngest daughter goodnight as well. "Goodnight, sweet-heart."

"Hey, Deanna," came a light, friendly voice from behind them. In the door frame of the nursery stood John Winchester, loving husband and father of two. He had dark hair and scruff tainted with car grease. He wore the dirty jumpsuit he always did for work, and his hands were sticky with oil from fixing up broken babies.

Deanna ran to him. "Daddy!" she exclaimed. She jumped into the man's arms and John picked her up effortlessly.

"Hey, girly," he greeted again. "So what do you think? Sammy ready to tussle around yet?"

"No, Daddy!" a smiling Deanna exclaimed, shaking her head.

"Nooo," John mocked him daughter.

"Got her?" Mary asked as she slipped out of the room.

"Yeah," John answered, hugging their daughter in his arms. "Sweet dreams, Samantha," he said before turning out the lights.

*

Later that night, Mary was awoken from her sleep by the baby monitor next to her bed. Samantha was crying. Again. "John?" she whispered since he wasn't in bed. She turned on the bed-side lamp to see where she was going, even half asleep. Mary pulled herself out of bed with a tired groan. She had to go check on Samantha.

Mary walked across the hall to the nursery and saw a clearly male figure standing over Samantha. The light was dim as she said his name. "John," she whispered. "Is she hungry?"

John shushed her softly, and all she replied was "okay" before walking off.

The light flickered in the hall by the stair case. It was like she was compelled to go over there. She tapped it once and the flickering stopped, returning to the dim but steady light it typically was. Then she noticed the noise leaking up from downstairs. She could hear the TV.

When she saw that John was fast asleep in the recliner, a game still playing, fear sprang into her. Who was standing over their baby?

Mary ran up the stairs. She kept repeating her name over and over as if the baby was going to answer her. It was instinct, though and she couldn't help it. "Sammy! Sammy!" she screamed.

*

John was awoken by a scream; Mary's scream. He yelled for his wife on instinct, chills creeping up his spine. He ran up the white painted stairs frantically, his gut telling him something was wrong. He felt like a character in a movie.

He ran into the only open door to see that everything looked normal. Sam was calm in her crib, making John think it might have all been a nightmare. He pushed down the side of the crib to pick up his baby girl. But when his hands reached down to grab Samantha, drops of something warm and dark red appeared on his hand.

Blood.

He looked up.

Oh, my god.

Mary was pinned to the ceiling and her body combusted, flames rapidly traveling across the ceiling. John tripped over his feet, falling backward to the ground. Heat and pressure kept him down, the only part of his body still able to function being his mouth. "No, Mary! Mary!" he cried out.

Sam began to cry and John's training from the Marines drove his body from the floor; he knew what he had to do. He had to save his children. John pulled Samantha out of her crib and sprinted into the hall. Deanna ran out of her room, scared with tears in her bright green eyes. "Daddy!" she whined. "Daddy!"

John looked at Deanna seriously. "Take your sister outside as fast as you can and don't look back. Now, Deanna, go!"

Deanna ran with her baby sister in her arms through the house and through the front door. When they were out and in the front yard, Deanna stopped. She stared down at her wailing baby sister a moment, and cradled her close. "It's okay, Sammy."

Suddenly their father picked them both up and carried them further away then there. The nursery exploded, a hit cloud of orange and yellow swirling flames erupting from the shattered window. The wooden frames of the window flew off of the house with the speed of white-picket spears. The other parts of the house follows suit and burned with an over-whelming amount of  heat and fire.

*

The fire-fighters and policemen finally got there not long after, confused as to how it had burned so quickly. Questions were asked about electrical issues and rodents, John answering in a daze. No matter what cause they decided on, John knew this was no accident.

The horror of children losing their mother and a husband losing his spouse was a tragedy that changed people. As the Winchesters sat on the hood of John's 1967 Chevrolet Impala and waited for everything to cool down, onlookers could see that nothing would ever be the same again. Anyone paying enough attention could see it in John Winchester's angry, burning eyes.