Hunter's Curse

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My name is John Winchester, on November 2 1983, my wife was killed by something... something not natural. Whatever it was has robbed me of the love of my life, and robbed my children of their mother. I don't know how or why, but if I sit here and do nothing I might just go insane. I am going to find whatever did this and I am going to make it pay, no matter what the cost.

Supernatural - Fanfic -John Winchester

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2. Loosing My Mind

    Still holding on tightly to Sam and Dean I run across the street to my neighbors house, I put down Dean and knock on the door furiously. My neighbor opens the door, evidently half asleep he puts on his glasses and blinks in confusion but notices that I'm shaken up and this confusion is immediately replaced with concern.

"John? Is everything okay?"

"There's been a fire, can you call 911"

"A fire?" he looks at me and squints as his vision goes to Sam and then to Dean. He furrows his eyebrows "Where's Mary?" 

I don't say anything but he understands anyway

"Oh G-d" he says, fear evident in his voice

---

    A few minutes later the police arrive and firemen immediately begin to extinguish my house, half of the house is gone by this point but the firemen assure me they will salvage what they can. Although Sam is much too young to understand anything that's going on he senses that something happened and he began to cry, my soothing didn't do too much good, he wanted his mother. Dean on the other-hand knew what was happening, he knew something real bad happened to his mother. He cried a lot at first, but after he calmed down he stopped talking all-together. The paramedics who showed up informed me this was shock and was common with small children after a traumatic incident. 

   I feel that the only reason the police didn't begin to question me the moment they showed up was because I was in shock. I found it difficult to talk but knew that I had to, the only reason I didn't start crying right there and now was because I had to stay strong for Sam and Dean, also that is what Mary would have wanted.

   It was clear the police assumed I was responsible for the fire by the questions they asked me, the questions where along the lines of "Where were you when the fire occurred?", "How was your relationship with Mary in the weeks prior to the accident?", and "Any problems with the boys?"

  The whole incident seemed surreal, it felt as if this were happening to someone else and I was simply observing. The only things the firemen recovered from the fire were a couple photos, about two of Sammy's toys, and one of my old guns. After they put out the fire they rescued a small box of old things we kept in the basement, it wasn't much but it contained an assortment of Mary's old stuff so I kept it close.

   I kept replaying the last few moments before the fire in my mind but the image of Mary laying there on the ceiling kept intruding my thoughts. Why was she on the ceiling? How is that possible? The police ruled the cause of the fire to be faulty wiring, but I insisted an investigation to be held, , I was convinced someone was in my home that night.

  

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