Hello all! This is just a little story idea I had stuck in my head and needed to write. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

When John woke, he was understandably confused. The last thing he remembered was saying goodbye to his boys, and feeling a warm light surround him as he disappeared. Now all he felt was cold. Not unpleasantly so, but cold none the less.

He opened his eyes, and was surprised to find himself lying on the kitchen floor of his house in Lawrence. 'What the hell?' He thought, eyes wide and startled at the sight of his old house. He jumped up, and prepared himself for a fight, his eyes searching for a threat. 'When I found out who did this, who put me through this again, I will rip the lungs outta that so-' It was then that he noticed it. The colors were too vibrant, the house too spotless, the details of the room too hazy to be real. This was not his house.

'This must be heaven,' his brain supplied. 'It makes sense.' John was still tense for a moment, his honed hunter instincts still sharp even in death. He stared at the kitchen a second longer, then relaxed fully and completely, in a way that he hadn't since Mary died. He wasn't sure if it was the familiarity of the room around him, or the completeness he felt whilst surrounded by walls that were his, but he relaxed all the same. He stood there for a moment, stunned by the turn of events that led him here and smiled. It was the huge kind of smile that people only get every so often; the kind of smile that light up your eyes so much they practically glow. 'I bet Mary's here,' he thought. 'I bet Mary's here! And I'm gonna see her...' With that thought, he got up and started walking.

He walked from room to room slowly, his eyes savoring the details of his old house. When given the opportunity to reunite with their lost wives, many men would run as fast as their legs would allow to get to their beloved. John Winchester was no such man. From themoment he saw his wife burn bloody on the ceiling of Sammy's bedroom, he had been running nonstop from one place to the next, racing desperately to escape his all-consuming grief. Now, with no grief clawing at the backs of his heels and his hunger for revenge finally quenched, John was allowedto walk as slowly and lazily as he wished. And so he did.

Mary was found sleeping in their bedroom, eyes relaxed and peaceful, and it took everything John had not to run to her and wake her. He didn't though. After what she had been through, he wanted Mary to have everything she wanted, and if that meant she wanted to sleep, then she was damn well gonna be left to sleep. With one last look at her beautiful sprawling blonde curls, he left the room, content to wait.

When Mary awoke, she knew something was different. Since she had first entered heaven, she had become very attuned to the house in which she lived. Now, though, the house smelt slightly differently. The colors were different. She got out of bed and walked as slowly and quietly as she could. The main feeling of different-ness seemed to be coming from the living room. She walked down the hallway to the living room, pausing slightly at the door, and she could not help but tense at what was to come, her old hunter instincts screaming out at her to stop while she was ahead. In the end, however, curiosity won out and Mary walked into the living room.

There, looking out of her living room windows, stood her husband. "John?" She asked. She hated the way her voice shook. She hated the way she suddenly felt terrified at the idea of her husband standing before her. She wasn't a fool. She understood that she had been dead fora long time, and while John loved her dearly, there was every possibility that after she had died she was replaced. So, yes, she was terrified because perhaps if there was someone else, he wouldn't want her anymore. And then John turned around, and any fears she might have had dissipated into the air. "Mary," he whispered and rushed over to her. Mary felt her feet move towards John of their own accord to meet him in the middle.

She reached him and he pulled her close, enveloping her with his arms in a protective embrace. "God, I missed you," he mumbled into her hair. He kissed her then, and Mary felt herself go lightheaded. Only John could make her head empty that way and she loved him for it.

After a moment he let go of her, and she was able to take in all of the differences in him since that last time they had been together. "John, you look... Different."

"Mary," he said, chuckling. "I got old." There was something about the way he said it that she couldn't quite put her finger on... Something seemed off.