Lawrence, Kansas -- A Few Months Later
The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the soft, rhythmic cooing of a baby in the other room.
Missouri Moseley moved around her kitchen with the kind of ease that came from years of practice, her hands steady as she poured hot water into a teapot. The earthy scent of chamomile and lavender filled the air, a small comfort in a world that felt anything but comforting.
John Winchester sat at the kitchen table, his broad shoulders hunched over a mug of coffee that had long gone cold. His fingers tapped restlessly against the ceramic, a staccato beat that mirrored the storm raging inside him.
His face was drawn, the shadows under his eyes telling the story of too many sleepless nights and too few answers.
He'd spent months chasing leads, following rumors of psychics, mediums, and hunters, only to find charlatans and dead ends. Missouri was his last hope.
"John," Missouri said, her voice warm but firm, as she set a cup of tea in front of him. "You keep drumming like that, you're gonna scare the spirits right outta my house."
John's hand stilled, and he let out a rough, humorless laugh. "Sorry," he muttered, though his voice was distant, like his mind was somewhere far away -- somewhere dark. "Just... not used to sitting still."
Missouri slid into the chair across from him, her sharp eyes studying his face. "I can tell," she said, her tone gentle but probing. "You've got the look of a man who's been running for too long. Chasing shadows."
John's jaw tightened, and he looked down at the table, tracing a crack in the wood with his finger. "Yeah, well, the shadows chased me first," he said, his voice low and heavy. "And now I'm trying to figure out what the hell they are."
Missouri nodded, her expression thoughtful. "You've been looking for answers," she said. "Real answers. Not the kind those frauds peddle. Am I right?"
John's eyes flicked up to meet hers, a flicker of something -- hope, maybe, or desperation -- shining through the exhaustion. "You tell me," he said, his voice edged with skepticism. "You're the psychic."
Missouri chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, I'm a lot of things, John. Psychic's just one of 'em. But I'm not all-knowing, and I'm not here to sell you miracles. What I can do is tell you the truth -- or as much of it as I know."
John leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "Then start talking. Because I've been chasing my tail for months, and I'm no closer to understanding what killed my wife or why."
Missouri's expression softened, and she took a slow sip of her tea before speaking. "What killed Mary wasn't human, John. You already know that much.
What you don't know is that there's a whole world out there -- a hidden world -- full of things that go bump in the night. Demons, spirits, monsters... they're real. And they've been around a lot longer than we have."
John's brow furrowed, his grip tightening around the mug. "Demons," he repeated, his voice flat. "You're telling me my wife was killed by a demon."
"I'm telling you it's possible," Missouri said carefully. "Demons are tricky creatures. They're not like the boogeyman you see in movies. They're cunning, manipulative, and they've got powers most folks can't even imagine. They can possess people, twist minds, and yes... they can kill."
John stared at her, his mind racing. "And how do you know all this?"
Missouri smiled faintly. "Because I've seen it. Felt it. My gift -- my real gift -- isn't just about reading minds or talking to spirits.
It's about sensing the energy of things. And what I felt that night, when Mary died... it was dark, John. Darker than anything I've ever encountered."
John's face paled, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And you think it's still out there?"
Missouri nodded slowly. "I do. And I think it's not done with you. Or your family."
John's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "Then how do I stop it? How do I kill it?"
Missouri sighed, her expression grave. "It's not that simple, John. Demons aren't like regular monsters. You can't just shoot 'em or stab 'em and call it a day. They're tied to something bigger -- something older. To fight them, you've got to understand them. And even then... it's not a fight you can win alone."
John slumped back in his chair, running a hand over his face. "Great," he muttered. "So what, I'm just supposed to sit back and wait for it to come after us again?"
"No," Missouri said firmly. "You protect your family. You learn. You prepare. And you find people who can help you. There are others out there who know about this kind of thing -- hunters, psychics, people who've been fighting this fight for years.
You're not alone, John. But you've got to be smart about this."
John's eyes flicked toward the living room, where Dean's soft murmurs to his baby brother could barely be heard. His heart ached at the thought of what lay ahead for them -- for all of them. "I just want them to have a normal life," he said quietly. "Is that too much to ask?"
Missouri's smile softened, tinged with sadness. "Normal's overrated, John. What those boys need is a father who's willing to fight for them, no matter what. And from what I can see, they've got that in spades."
John nodded slowly, his resolve hardening. "I won't let anything happen to them," he said, his voice firm. "Not while I'm still breathing."
Missouri leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "Good. Because whatever's coming, it's going to test you. All of you." She paused, her gaze drifting toward the living room again. "Especially that baby in there."
John followed her gaze, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and fear. Sammy was just a baby, but already he could feel the weight of the world pressing down on those tiny shoulders. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice tight.
Missouri hesitated, her lips pressing together as if weighing her words. "There's something about Sammy, John. Something... different. I can feel it. He's got a power in him -- a potential. And it's not just ordinary potential. It's something extraordinary."
John's brow furrowed. "What kind of power?"
"Psychic," Missouri said simply. "But not like anything I've ever seen before. If it develops the way I think it will, he could become the most powerful psychic this world has ever known."
John stared at her, his mind racing. "And you think that's why it came for him? That... thing?"
Missouri nodded slowly. "I do. Whatever it was, it wasn't just there to hurt you or take Mary. It was there for Sammy. And it's not going to stop. Not until it gets what it wants."
John's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "Then I'll kill it," he said, his voice trembling with rage. "I'll find it, and I'll destroy it. Whatever it takes."
Missouri reached across the table, placing a calming hand over his. "You'll do more than that, John. You'll protect him. You'll guide him. And you'll make sure he's ready for whatever's coming."
John nodded slowly, his resolve hardening. "I will," he said, his voice firm. "No matter what."
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter!
This is a rewrite of this fanfic for those who didn't know. Last one was too fast paced, since I had only recently - in nearly half a decade of not writing - began writing again, so I was rusty.
Not anymore though. So yeah, do tell me how you found the chapter? I hope you all enjoyed it.
Please do comment and review if you haven't and I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)