A woman sits in front of the fireplace, gazing at the flickering tongues of fire. The couch she rests on sinks in around her as she shifts around and she adjusts the various cushions around her. The small sigh of content that escapes her breaks the continuous crackling and snapping of the heat in front of her.
"Not long now," she says quietly, bringing a hand up to her protruding stomach. "Soon you'll be out and ready to face the world, Dean."
A smile stretches across her face when she feels movement against her hand. When the movements continue, she looks down at her unborn child and coos, "Shhhh, shhh, it's okay, baby. Shhhh. Are you scared of the big, scary world? It seems like a scary place, doesn't it? Shhh, calm down, baby. The world seems scary, but I promise you, Dean Winchester, that everything will be alright."
She glances up to the mantel. A statue of an angel is resting there, its stone eyes gazing down at mother and child. With a small smile on her face, she continues to speak to the baby in her womb.
"Shhh, I promise everything will be alright baby, you know why? The angels are watching over you. And you have a very special angel who will do anything to protect you. Your angel will always love you, promise."
Her child gradually settles down and Mary Winchester returns her gaze to the flames once more. The angel sits quietly above the fireplace. All is silent again except for the fire that continues to blaze on.
-x-
"Mommy, mommy, I don't wanna go to school!"
Mary stops stirring the pancake batter and sets the bowl she's holding on the countertop. She can't help but smile when her son stamps his foot and crosses his arms with a pout.
"Dean, yesterday you were so excited about your first day of kindergarten, remember? And we went shopping for your new Spiderman backpack too, don't you want to show that off to all the new friends you'll make today?"
When Dean doesn't answer and keeps pouting in that cute little way of his, Mary squats down and takes her son's face in her hands. "Honey, why don't you want to go?"
His lower lip trembles. He unfolds his arms and starts to pull at the hem of his green t-shirt nervously, hunching his shoulders and lowering his chin to his chest. "Mommy, I-I'm scared."
"Of school? Baby, trust me, there is nothing to be scared of. Promise."
Dean blinks, then widens his eyes to the point where Mary wants to giggle. "My
Angel will be watching over me, right Mommy? Even when I'm at school?"
She smiles warmly at her son. "Of course, Dean. I've told you, your guardian angel will always be there, protecting you from everything you're scared of. Promise, remember? So be brave, little soldier. Okay?"
"… Okay," he says. When he sees his mom continuing to smile at him, he straightens up and grins up at her. "I'll be brave for you and for Angel!"
"That's my boy. Now get yourself on that chair and I'll have your favorite blueberry pancakes ready for you to eat in no time!"
-x-
"Dean! Take your brother and get out of here as fast as you can!"
Dean is running, running, running, and his brother is getting heavier in his arms and there's so much heat and heat and heat and finally he's outside.
He turns around to see red and orange and yellow and white engulfing his house and then—
Black, black, black. Everyone around him is dressed in black from head to toe. When he looks down at himself, so is he. He can't remember getting dressed. Dean turns to look up at his dad and sees that he's dressed in black, too.
Small hands reach up to grab the bottom of his dad's jacket. John shifts Sam from one arm to the other, and reaches down to rest his hand on Dean's head.
"Daddy? Where's mommy?"
John stares at the stone in front of them. His beloved's name is set in stone there. Friends, family, strangers—they all come up to him and offer their condolences. When they hear Dean's question, they stare at him with grief and sadness in their eyes.
So young, they say. So innocent, the poor thing.
"… She's not here anymore, Dean. She's with the angels now," his dad answers, as a tear escapes his eye.
"The angels? Is she coming back?"
John's heart breaks again for the millionth time as he realizes how much his sons have lost.
"No son, she's not. But the angels took her to a safe place, so don't you worry about her."
"B-but why would the angels take her? Why? Aren't they supposed to protect her when she's here? Where is she? Angels, give her back. Angel, GIVE MY MOMMY BACK TO ME!"
Dean's voice raises in pitch and volume until he's screaming, raising his head up to the sky, shuddering in fear and anger and confusion. John's weary eyes grow sadder and sadder as he sees his little boy crying and shouting to the angels he once loved. Half sobbing, half sighing, he crouches down and holds his older son to his chest as best he can with one arm. Hearing his cries, Sam starts to wail in agitation. At least he doesn't know grief yet, thinks John.
"Daddy, why did the angels take her? I want her back. Here. Please Daddy, get her back! Please!"
The two brothers continue to wail in unison. The people in black around them look to them in their grieving, their silence being drowned by them.
Dean Winchester stops believing in angels that day.
No one ever notices the man in the beige trenchcoat standing a few yards away from the gathering that day, and no one ever sees him vanish.
-x-
Sometimes he gets the feeling he's being watched. Whenever he went hunting with his dad, whenever he goes hunting with Sam.
He knows he's not just being paranoid, he's too good for that.
There is someone—or something—there. Watching him.
Once he catches beige and blue out of the corner of his eye, but by the time he fully turns around, there's nothing there.
-x-
He hates near-death experiences.
He hates surviving them.
He hates surviving them because they give him hope.
Every time he survives, every time he defeats what he's fighting, his mother's voice always comes back to him—faint and just a whisper—and tells him Promise, Dean. Your Angel is always watching over you, always protecting you.
It's how he stays brave.
But he hates it, hates having hope, because where was his Angel and all the other angels when that thing took his mother away?
He can't have faith.
He can't believe in promises.
-x-
painpainpainpainpain it's hot it's burning my blood is on fire I can't get out of these chains
painpainpain it hurts make it stop help me someone help me voices in my head so red so black so dark nothing chains so heavy
painpainpainpainpainpain where are you please save me burning it hurts save me please im dying over and over and over so cold cold stop it stop hurting me save me help me please
painpainpainpainpain save me please please please it hurts so much help me
painpainpainpainpainpain so alone nobody's coming to save me
Dark. It's dark.
All he knows is pain.
No light.
No hope.
Just dark and pain.
He loses every bit of hope he has. He gives up the tiny shred of hope he'd been holding onto for all those years.
Dean.
His name. Then the brightest light erupting from everywhere. Then a hand on his shoulder.
I'm here. I'll watch over you. Always, I promise.
-x-
a/n: Kinda done in a hurry, so sorry about grammar, spelling, all the usual. Not sure if I should write a mini epilogue to this.
I just got into the SPN fandom and I ship destiel even though I've barely even started watching the show. Thanks tumblr.
Anyway, inspiration was from mishasminions. tumblr. com/ post/ 23545236784 (remove the spaces). Follow her, she's an amazing blog!