A ruthless vengeance twisted the black hearts of witches. They lurked like sadistic shadows from small towns to metropolitan neighborhoods.

You were just a tiny bundle in a bassinet that night, when a huge vigilante in a sweeping leather jacket broke in, swiftly ending your mother’s ugly killing streak. And then, he found you. This man knew exactly what you were before even you did. But this man was a father… and not all problems ended in gunfire.

Nobody in that town knew you enough to report a missing baby. Dean’s reception was lukewarm, and Sammy was barely old enough to remember a time before you. John didn’t know your name, so he gave you one.

Traveling across the country, meant that you ran into all types. Few hunters bothered to learn any witchcraft. He dragged the three of you to the pop-up markets under the guise of buying meals as he pretended not to look too closely at the metaphysical supplies. Studying, he’d say if Dean was perceptive enough to catch him. You have to know thy enemy.

Surviving meant hiding. You were growing old enough to toddle around, which meant you were old enough to express free will, to manifest the cosmos in ways that most would never even imagine, besides learn. One of your books started flipping rapidly through its own pages. A random toy you had begged for was found discarded in the motel couch cushions that same evening. Of course, you were not allowed to tell Sammy and Dean about the strange things. Nor could you tell your classmates. Only your father, and eventually a man named Bobby. He didn’t show it in front of you, but your adoptive father was worried.