Disclaimer: I used to own supernatural, the boys, the Impala and everything else on the show. But then, the men in white gave me my meds and I had to take them.
Summary: What if Mary had taken Dean's advice?
A/N: Wow, I didn't even realize it'd been so long since I last posted. Anyway, here's my latest story. Not sure what I'm going to do about the incomplete ones. To keep the updates coming fast and easy, I'll try to post it in short chapters.
1978
She was tired. So very tired that she could barely keep her eyes open as she did last night's dishes. What the hell was wrong with her? It was too early in the pregnancy for her to feel like this. Come to think of it, John hadn't looked too good in the morning either. Maybe they were coming down with something. Something that seemed even more likely once she heard him come back.
"Honey, what's the matter?" Mary asked, concerned at his pale complexion. "You are supposed to be working. You feeling alright?"
"Mr. Woodson's dead." John said numbly. "I – uh - got to the garage and there were cops all over the place. He died last night."
A sudden sense of dread filled her - a feeling that she was so familiar with and yet hadn't felt for six years. "What happened?"
"They said it was an accident." John replied. "Something about a blowtorch."
There. It was nothing. No reason to get worried. People had accidents all the time. That's all it was… nothing weird. She had escaped that life for good.
"But it couldn't have been an accident, Mar. I mean, his eyes were burned clean out of his skull and there wasn't a mark on his face. How the hell is that even possible?"
She could never escape, Mary realized. The unease that she'd felt finally took a shape. She'd never be able to escape her past and if she kept trying, she'd get her husband killed. She had almost let herself forget the deal she'd made, but she couldn't ignore it any longer. Come the tenth anniversary of John's resurrection, the demon would find her and from there, things would only get worse.
She had to leave, now. Mary knew that her sudden decision was irrational, but as a hunter she had learned to trust her gut. A voice in her head (a voice that suspiciously sounded like a guy) kept telling her to leave. Promising John some comfort food, Mary got out of the house and went for a drive in their van – a van that John had bought thinking about the family they were going to have.
Family… Oh God! She had to do something about the baby inside her. No, not a baby - not yet. John didn't know yet and that was a blessing in a way. She refused to get back into her old life with a baby in the tow. Besides, a hunter had no business raising any kids.
A week later Mary was two states away, alone in a motel room, crying her heart out for a son she could have had.