𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 || dean winchester ¹

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

— THE ORIGIN OF ROBIN BLAINE

»»———-　✪　———-««

[ October 17, 1983 ]

TRAGEDY WAS A RARE OCCURRENCE in the quiet city of San Bruno, California. That particular night had been calm and peaceful. Uneventful. Like every other. Families in their cozy two-story homes did what they usually would on a Saturday, and when the moon finally made its comforting appearance, they retired to their bedrooms.

Jayme and Robin Blaine were no exception to this routine.

The woman and her child had been home alone that night, which wasn't alarming. Her husband, Noah, wasn't expected to come home until at least dawn after a job well done. Robin had been put to bed hours ago in her crib with no issue right after a small dinner, and Jayme lay awake in her shared king-sized bed, a sizable novel in her hand.

The golden glow of the lamp beside her kept her awake long enough to hear her husband come home. His soft footsteps ascending the staircase made her lips lift into a soft smile and she set her book face down onto the ruffled sheets. Before her feet could touch the cold wooden floor, her bedside lamp was switched off and the room was flooded with nothing but the moonlight that streamed through the gauzy white curtains that covered the windows.

"Noah?" Jayme nervously called out, the unusual power outage prickling her skin with goosebumps. There was no response when her eyes darted towards the bedroom door. She could hardly see out into the hallway, but she heard the familiar creak of the aged floorboards in Robin's nursery.

Her head whipped to the side when the bright incandescent glow obscured her sight. Jayme winced and looked at her alarm clock. Red, blocky numbers flashed against the pitch black machine, reading midnight. She chewed her lip and called her husband's name out one more time, hoping he just hadn't heard her the first time.

Jayme wanted him to come trudging into their bedroom, eyes tired and shoulders hung low. She wanted nothing more than for him to ease the churning in her stomach and murmuring of her heartbeat the longer she stared into the empty hallway.

The pit in her stomach seemed to weigh her down to the bed when she forced herself upright, sliding her feet carefully into soft, cotton slippers. She craned her neck in front of the door, squinting into the corridor.

Robin's nursery door had been opened.

She could tell by the stretch of soft light against the floor just outside. Jayme closed it after giving her six-month-old daughter a goodnight kiss. Her stomach sunk to her feet and she took slow, vigilant steps into the darkness. She knew it was a bad idea from the start. She was completely defenseless against what she knew wasn't her husband.

Her daughter was the most important thing to her, besides Noah. Whatever it was, she prepared herself to do whatever it took to make sure Robin was safe.

When she reached the doorway, she swore she could hear the heartbeat of whoever it was inside of the nursery. Jayme's breathing went dangerously shallow when she saw the figure standing over Robin's crib.

Against the moonshine, she couldn't make out the intruder's face, but she knew it was a man. The way it towered over her daughter, completely absorbed by the baby that slept soundly underneath a pink blanket with a stuffed bunny tucked underneath her pudgy arm, made Jayme nauseous.