(A/N - I know, lyrics at the beginning, suck, right? Well, I'm fairly sure this was the entire inspiration for the fic. It's a song. It's a very short song. Just read it for me, yeah? Reviews as always are appreciated.)
You Were There:
Well it might have been a vision.
Or might have been a dream.
Like a photograph of Eden, it was like no place I'd ever seen.
And you were there waiting for me.
You shined the light that I couldn't see.
I stood at the gate like a stranger, and you were there waiting for me.
In the middle of the city, In the middle of the night, I woke up in total darkness; I'd been dreamin' about the light.
And I dreamed that we were laughin'.
And I dreamed that we were free.
And I dreamed we were becoming who we were meant to be.
And you were there waiting for me.
You shined the light till I could see.
I stood at the gate like a stranger, and you were there waiting for me.
You were there waiting for me, you knew I'd show eventually.
I stood at the gate like a stranger, and you stood there waiting for me.
You were there waiting for me.
-Tonio K.
"Mom?" Dean asked, "Is that really you?"
"Hey sweetie," Mary said ignoring the question, as she wrapped her arms around her oldest son. "You really shouldn't be here yet," she told him softly, as she started stroking his hair. It was so good to hold him, she hadn't even seen him since he was four, really. She missed him so much, loved the man he'd become, the boy he'd been. Seeing him a couple years ago had just intensified the pain. Well, for a few minutes a couple years ago. Or was it in the future? She was eternal, he was but a flicker.
"Mom," he whispered again, hugging her tightly, his body shuddering with suppressed sobs, "I'm so sorry, I…"
"Dean, honey, no tears, no more tears for this family." She smoothed a hand through his hair, down to his back. It really was okay if he cried, god knows he'd earned the right, but she'd rather he wasn't upset. He was her baby boy, her older baby boy, but her baby all the same. She didn't want him to be hurting. She took in his pain with a glance, saw how easy the right words would fix so much of it. Sometimes she thought she wanted to slap her husband, and other times Mary wished she could just wrap her arms around the man, just for a second, to let him know she hadn't abandoned him, or her family.
A single sob wracked Dean's body anyway before he got it under control, and she knew her arms were the only thing keeping him together. She didn't hold just a 20 year old man, she also held a little boy, hiding within the husk of that broken man. She pulled him closer yet, rocking him as best she could. Feeling the strength of his body, and the hurt in his soul.
"I…this…dreaming," he said, throat to tight for the words.
She bit her lip, one hand tucking strands of blond hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry, baby, but this isn't a dream," she gently brushed a tear off his cheek.
She wanted him to stay, mothers want to protect their children, and she couldn't protect him if he wasn't with her. "Let me look at you for a second, okay? Just let me look at you, before you have to go back. You're not even supposed to be here."
She gazed longingly at him trying to take everything in. He was scarred. His body ached and hurt, and she knew it. She could see how much pain he was in, the way his body ached the way it should have fifty years from now, his joints popped and cracked and hurt from the constant abuse. He had her eyes, his father's jaw. He was tall and proud, for a cripple. God he was beautiful. "I bet you have a lot of girls jealous of your eyelashes," she told him with a smile, kissing a tear off his cheek. He forced a slight laugh.
"And here I was thinking it was my lips," he said with a slight smile. She let him press his face into her shoulder.
"Please don't cry," she whispered gently, silking her fingers gently through his soft hair, the color a mix of hers and John's. She kept her hands moving, trying to find a way to comfort him.
"I hurt," he mumbled, pulling away suddenly, watching blood blossoming across his chest. She pressed her hand to it, pulling away, nothing stained her hands, but when he pressed his hands against the wound, blood blossomed over his fingers, coating them and trailing over the backs of his hands.
"It's okay, Dean, it's okay." She let her fingertips rest against his cheek. "I'm so sorry, sweetie, I'm so sorry." He flickered as he tried to focus on himself. Fleeting wounds opened up across his skin, bruises flickered like shadows. Sometimes his clothes changed, more or less layers, different colors, his age changed, too. Flickering back and forth between twenty and four. She hugged him again, her right hand over his on his bleeding belly, her left rubbing his back in gentle easy circles. Sometimes working the back of his neck, shoulders, before returning to the slow circles.
"Where's Sam?" he said, suddenly panicked, pulling away from her. "Oh, god, Mom, I forgot Sam, I left Sam, Mom, I'm so sorry! I have to…he'll…" claw marks sprouted on his forehead, bleeding into his eyes before they was gone, his lip split and bleeding before that too, was gone.
"Sam's fine, honey. Stay calm. You can't stay long, okay?" Dean cocked his head.
Dean, wake up man, please, wake up. Oh, god, Dean, c'mon, man, I need you. Dad's gonna kick your ass if you don't open your eyes, damnit Dean.
"I'm going crazy," he whispered, his hands going up to cover his face. Mary didn't know what else she could do for him, so she hugged him again.
"Dean, I am so proud of you. You understand me? But you have to leave now, okay? I'm sorry. I've already let you stay too long. Being selfish, I guess," she laughed a little, flicking her hair over her shoulder.
"No! I won't leave you, I can't leave you, you're my mom, and I need you…I've missed you so much. And Dad…he's…where's Dad, if he could just see you, maybe things…Mom, you don't get it! I need you with me!"
"Dean Winchester, I am with you, forever and always." she said firmly, drawing him up with her. He heard yelling.
Clear!
Oh god, Dean, please, c'mon man! Please!
Charging, Clear!
"Mom, I…I won't! I want…I need you," he said, hugging her tightly to him again, wrapping his arms around her fiercely.
"Baby, you haven't needed me in a long time," she said, gently pulling him to the door. She glanced around. A motel. Home to him, all he'd lived in since John started hunting. This was his sandbox, not hers. She could only protect him for so long before he had to go.
"But, Dad needs you, and Sam, Sam deserves a mom, and Dad…he's not the same!" Dean protested. "I need you, please…I don't understand," he whispered, desperate.
Clear!
The sound of someone quietly sobbing provided a backdrop for the desperate shouting.
Mary looked at him, feeling her jaw clench. "Dean, you have to go, now, or it's going to be too late."
"It hurts," he whispered, blood appearing again on his body, she noted wounds in his legs, chest and a cut on his forehead dripping blood into his eye. "Is this real?"
"It's real if you believe it is," she told him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, with a semblance of his normal spark.
"You can ask Sam," she told him. Then saw the hurt on his face. "You'll figure it out on your own, if you want to. But it doesn't matter right now, you need to leave, it's not time yet. You'll get to come back, I will see you again," she said. "Now go, don't make me have to put you into time out," she said, speaking to the four year old with a bemused smile. One that brought out a grin on the man's face to match her own, bringing back memories of a simpler time, an easier time.
"Yes ma'am," he said pulling the door open, eyes locked with hers as he took a step across the threshold into blinding white. "I can't!" he cried out suddenly, flinging his arms around her tightly. She pulled back a little, hands on his shoulders. She kissed his forehead gently, brushing another tear off his cheek before letting her forehead rest against his palms on his tearstained cheeks.
"You'll be okay. You understand me? It'll be okay."
"I love you."
Clear!
Dean, please!
"I love you, too," she said, using all her weight to push him, hard, he cried out in shock and pain as he tumbled away from her.
Inside of the ambulance, Sam right next to him, clutching his cooling hand, sobbed. His eyes opened into slits, his heart beating again.
In the hospital, he woke up long enough to see them putting a mask on his face to keep him out during surgery.
His dreams were scattered. Broken images like a shattered mirror danced through his mind. Claws. He remembered claws. Gunshots.
Mom.
He forced open his eyes, feeling a wet warmth along his arms, gently rubbing at his chest. It felt like the time Bobby's dog had knocked him over after he'd been outside playing with Sam, and licked him all over the face and neck. The feeling moved up to his face, gentle. A face smiled down at him. He felt a sense of disappointment, but no reason why.
When Dean forced his eyes open again it was at the soothing touch of someone gently stroking his hair and holding his hand, "Mom?" he croaked.
"No, it's Sam. Dad's asleep in the chair. We're here, okay? We're here." Dean nodded weakly, letting his eyes slip closed. "Don't leave me," Sam whispered, pleading.
Dean forced his eyes open again, "Never," he whispered back, grinning hazily.
"Promise?" Sam asked.
"Forever and always Sammy, I'll be here," Dean promised. Just like Mom.