Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Kripke and a whole bunch of other people do. I'm just playing in their sandbox for entertainment purposes only.
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John ran a hand down the side of the woman sleeping naked next to him. Ellen had dozed off after they'd finished their love-making, rolling away from him in a move that tangled the sheet around her slim legs as it effectively prevented him from using it. That was all right though—he was only going to stay a few minutes more. He needed to leave for Idaho tonight, if he wanted to get there before the unknown monster rumored to be there had a chance to kill again.
Besides, they could never be exactly sure when Ellen's husband might return early from a hunt of his own.
John was thankful for the darkness that filled Ellen's bedroom. For a just a moment, it let him pretend that the woman whose thigh his fingers brushed over had pale golden hair instead of dusty brown. Had a gentle face with eyes full of wisdom, not eyes that betrayed both fierceness and cunning and a face that was as changing as the weather. For just a moment, in the dark, he could fool himself into thinking he had his Mary back.
But then he would put his pants back on and disappear into the night. Because he was John Winchester, and no amount of pretending could ever bring Mary back to him.