Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (just north of Salem, Massachusetts) lived a not so happy couple – Jared and Victoria.
Like many a brash, virile youth of his times, twenty-one year old Jared was wont to make decisions led not by his brain, or his heart, but an organ situated much, much lower in his impressively long anatomy. So when despite six months of proper and gentlemanly courting his sweetheart refused to give up her virtue, Jared descended on one knee and made the biggest mistake of his life.
One might argue an even bigger mistake by far was yet to be made, but let’s not rush ahead of ourselves.
It was a lovely wedding to say the least. Victoria’s family disapproved of the match, but they sent a handsome dowry and bid their oldest daughter good bye (“and good riddance”). Jared’s parents gifted the newlyweds a quaint little homestead with three acres just outside of town where land was most fertile and a crop of pumpkins most profitable.
Unfortunately, Jared was no good at plowing the field. He had too much love and concern for the welfare of his beloved pet, a donkey called Tomatillo Munchalot. No joke, that’s the name given to him by the oddball gypsy-woman he bought the wretched beast from. And Victoria was no good at being a (let’s not say poor) humble young farmer’s wife with nary a social life to speak of, now that they lived so far away from the town center.
Soon her dowry dried up, thanks to her extravagant tastes in jewelry and garters and the latest Victorian fashion imported all the way from London. In its stead she aimed her demands at poor (fair to say it now), unskilled, no-good-at-anything-really Jared, demands he unsurprisingly failed to fulfill. So she nagged, and she moaned and she bitched and she nagged, until one day Jared could take it no more.
“What would you have me do – sell my soul to the devil?”
Victoria crossed her arms. “God knows that day might yet come to pass, but for now, how about we start with selling the mule?”
Jared gasped in absolute appalled-ness. “Not my Tomatillo Munchalot! He is too old for farm-work and will barely fetch a good price. Besides, he is the only friend I have in this world.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps then you would like to sleep with your friend tonight, and every night henceforth and forever!”
The next morn, Jared packed a sack of apples and a piece of stale bread for lunch, and set off for the town market with his friend, Tomatillo. To be quite clear, dear patient reader, the threat of celibacy was not the only thing spurring the young man’s actions this day. Jared was a good lad after all. He was keenly aware of his duties as a husband to his young wife and possibly the mother of his future children, if she ever let him back into her bed that is.
In all seriousness, if he didn’t provide for them now, there would be no ration left in the house to speak of. Victoria might use the opportunity to lose a few pounds (and indeed would benefit from it) but Jared would most definitely be forced to starve, or beg for alms from strangers, neither situation he found to his liking.
His parents had sold everything they owned and left town a week ago, blissfully unaware of their only son’s domestic strife. They were still rather fit for their age, barely a day over forty having married quite young themselves. So they were heading westwards to test their fortune in the gold rush one last time. Naturally, that avenue was closed upon him as well.
“Do not look at me so, Tommy. I must do what I must do,” Jared rued softly to his beloved pet.
The donkey brayed softly as if to assure his master that he understood. But his head hung low and unlike the race of men, beasts could hardly ever disguise their true sentiments.
Shortly thereafter, Jared and Tommy came upon an old hag in the middle of the road. She looked to be a century old, at least, hunched over in two as she muttered to herself and walked right into the duo from out of town.
“Watch where you’re going, laddie!” She droned, not unkindly as she set eyes upon the kindly face of young Jared.
“Begging your pardon, ma’m. I was indulging in a bit of nostalgia for my carefree and joyous days gone by. So lost was I, did not see you there.”
The old hag eyed the boy and his donkey steadfastly. “And what befalls your days now, dear lad?”
Jared bowed his head sadly. “I must sell my dearest pet at the town market to make ends meet for my wife and I.”
The woman smiled and reached out slowly, peculiarly, to pat the side of the donkey’s head. “How about I save you half a day’s trip and buy this magnificent beast from you right now?”
Jared was naturally skeptical. “I’m not sure you can afford him, madam.”
“Come, lad,” the woman chided. “I may not care to carry the currency of this land, but I can offer you something no mere coins can purchase.”
“And what would that be?”
The woman pulled out a little bag made of sheepskin tied at the mouth with a jute string. She held it up for Jared to see and implored with such fire in her eyes, Jared was spurred to quickly step back.
“Magic beans! A whole bag of ‘em, just for you and your lovely wife.”
“Magic?” Jared gasped. “You’re a witch!”
“Aye,” she squinted. “I thought that should be obvious by now.”
Jared started to mount poor Tommy in a bid to escape. “Perhaps, I should get going. It is starting to get late…”
“Wait!” The witch caught the donkey by its stirrups. Tomatillo simply grunted but seemed not too inconvenienced by her intrusion. “You are a farmer, are you not?”
Jared grimaced. “I am trying to be.”
“Then surely you know this, my sweet lad. As you sow, so shall –”
“- you reap, yes, yes. But see I am in the business of pumpkins…”
“Perhaps you should diversify then? Take a chance, my sweet lad! A chance to find your perfect happiness – to have everything your heart secretly desires and nothing it wishes to be rid of, forever! In exchange, I promise to take good care of your friend to the end of his days. Trust me, young Jared, you will not regret this.”
The old woman seemed desperate and by the looks of it, she really could use a mount to ease her travels. She barely weighed as much as a feather and her eyes were gentle though being milked over with age and cataract. Jared looked down at Tommy, who seemed content enough to lean into the old woman’s hand as she fed him a lump of sugar.
Jared sighed, and took the bag of beans from her.
“Fare thee well, my friend. I shall miss you dearly,” he whispered in Tommy’s ear, and watched with sadness as the witch led his dear pet away.
He walked all the way home lost in thought, pausing but for a moment to ponder how the woman knew his name, for he could have sworn he had not given it.
It was not until much later, when Victoria towered over him, screaming her head off about the stupid bag of beans, did Jared realize how foolish he’d been. Not for having bought the beans, but for having believed this ill-tempered and selfish wench could ever make him a good wife.
“I curse you, Jared Padalecki! Curse you for ruining my whole damn life!”
Victoria grabbed the bag of beans from the table and flung it out recklessly through the open window. The string came undone and the contents of the bag scattered across their backyard but neither she nor Jared turned to see where they landed.
Jared went to sleep hungry and alone and heartbroken. He felt miserable, unloved, and uncared for. If something were to happen to him tomorrow, he was sure no one would even notice; no one would miss him at all. Jared blinked back tears and tried to sleep. He prayed at least Tomatillo would find happiness in his new home.
Lightning struck and thunder rolled, and then the skies opened, pelting and nurturing the parched lands with long awaited rains. Jared slept through the storm, unaware of how his destiny was about to transform in its wake.
(tbc)