Hello everybody :)

I think the relationship between Mary and John is pretty interesting so I thought, that I had to write something about these two. I really hope there aren't too many grammar and spelling mistakes.

But now, before I'm going to annoy you, enjoy the story :)

Heaven

"Where is that coming from?" Mary's fingers traced cautiously over a scar on John's collarbone. He laughed out bitterly. "A wendigo." He answered softly.

Gently she stroked his cheek, nodded slightly and touched another scar. It was on his left shoulder and crawled up to his chin. Her lips touched the uneven skin like the wings of a butterfly.

"And that?" She asked softly. A deep sigh escaped his lips.

"It was… Sammy's first hunt. A werewolf." John closed his eyes and felt how Mary settled herself next to him on the carpet and took his hand carefully in her own. I listen, an unspoken promise, but they knew each other better than anybody else.

At least, he knew Mary. The man he was now, was a complete stranger to her.

"It-it was his birthday… I…" John broke off and looked her in the eyes guardedly. "It was his only wish… helping his brother. He tried to convince me over weeks, he even would've been okay with research."

His gaze dropped to their hands. She held his hands, as if she feared his disappearance. He entwined their fingers.

"It was my fault. I… gave him a simple revolver with silverbullets… He shouldn't use them, if it weren't really necessary. Dean lay on the and I was busy myself with one of these beasts. Must've been partners or something. Sam jumped out of his covert and shot. The bullet didn't hit the heart, but the werewolf who was originally busy with me… Oh Mary, it almost killed him." John's voice broke.

He had never thought about the possibility, that he had to tell Mary this story one day. But now, he slowly broke under her gentle gaze. Again. She would surely leave him again, once she would learn about his actions.

Once she would learn, what he had done wrong. How often he almost lost their boys.

"What happened then, John?" She put her fingers under his chin and pushed it up, so she could look him in the eyes again. He almost melted under her blue-green eyes. "What happened after that?"

Like a boy, he pulled his legs near his body and looked down at his feet. "I was able to shoot the injured werewolf and Dean, he shot the other. Sam, he… he lay there and bled, there was so-so much blood… He gasped and fought against unconsciousness and I… just stood there. Like… paralyzed and watched, how Dean lifted Sammy from the ground carefully and carried him to the car.

He shouted at me, I should move and drive the damned car to the hospital. And in my head, everything screamed that I needed to save my boy, that I should, at least once, do the right thing. So, I got in the car and drove to the hospital."

Quietly, Mary had listened to every of his words and hadn't only once interrupted him. Again, John felt shame rising up in him, like so many years ago, when his son nearly bled to death. His sight blurred.

Most people surely would have shook their heads, at the thought of a grown man like John Winchester, bursting into tears. But not Mary.

Her lips brushed over his temples and for a moment, he dropped his shields and let himself be weak. He looked at her uncertainly. "Sam and Dean… they grew up with-without me. Dean raised himself and Sam. I-I bathed myself in self-pity and whiskey, while they fought for survival."

His gaze remained lowered. "I was a pathetic example of a father." Slowly he withdrew his hand from Mary and got up. Turned away from her. He couldn't handle her looking at him, as if he was her most valuable possession.

It was quiet in the small motel room. Mary sat in front of the bed and looked down at her hands. It hurt her to see John so broken. All the happiness had left him. Now, he was bitter.

John stood in front of the bulky dresser opposite of the bed and looked at his hands too. Worker hands. They trembled.

Out of sudden, he felt how a pair of arms closed around his torso and a head came to rest between his shoulder blades. He sighed. "I'm so sorry, Mary. For everything."

"Don't blame yourself for everything." She paused. "We both made decisions that… affected our sons life in bad ways. But now… you're here, with me. Maybe here, we can find something similar to… forgiveness." The words were spoken quietly, but he still understood every single syllable.

She let go of him and he turned to her again.

"I missed you, Mary. All these years… You and the boys, you were the only thing that prevented me from giving up." John admitted.

Smiling she put her arms around his neck, stroked his cheek, brushed his unshaved jawline and through his dark messy strands of hair.

He closed his eyes. No one looked at or touched him like this in decades. Part of him denied him the chance of this feel, forbade him to feel like this with someone else than Mary.

His inners had cooled down over the years in many terms and as he had to admit with shame, towards his boys too.

"John?" He heard Mary whisper and opened his eyes.

A tiny smile played around the corners of his mouth. Their time together hadn't been easy all the time, but she always had been everything he had. What had been important to him, until Dean was brought to life and added a big part to his world.

And then, four years later, Sammy had came and saved himself another place in his little world.

Then, Mary died, no, got killed and his little, safe world collapsed and drifted apart. He still felt the pain of seeing her hanging on the burning sealing every day.

Frightened eyes, lips parted for a silent scream.

But now, she stood in front of him. Beautiful and alive. Smiling. His angel, the person, who made him a better human being.

"Yes?" He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers gently, closed his eyes once more.

"I love you, John. I love you so much." He recognized the smile in her voice and there they were again. Tears.

"And I love you, my angel."

Then he opened his eyes.

The warmth vanished, just like the feeling of safeness and Mary. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

Sometimes he forgot how real dreams could feel.

For a moment, he remained lying. Felt how the tiredness left him and forced himself to hit the blanket aside, throw his legs out of the bed and stood up.

He asked himself, what day today was, but it didn't occur to him.

Fastly he searched for his jeans and a t-shirt and got dressed, when he found the clothes. After that, he put on his shoes. Experienced he packed all his stuff together, so he could leave in a few minutes.

Meanwhile he thought about the dream. This time, it felt so real.

Her fingertips, that ghosted over his temples. Her arms arms around him, that let him forget, that even this moment had to end. Her soft voice, that asked him questions and promised him her love.

The things were in his bag after a short while. Shortly, he checked if all weapons were, where they belonged and put on his leather jacket after that.

When he wanted to open the door with a sigh, he heard another door in the motel room open and close.

"John? Did you want to leave without a Goodbye?"

He whirled around and all the warmth and safeness were there again and the happiness washed over him like a wave. "Mary." He whispered and she laughed out quietly. She took a few toward, he met her halfway and whirled her through the air. They laughed and were twenty again and there were only the two of them.

Carefully, John put her down and she beamed up at him. Then she pulled him down for a kiss.

"You won't lose me ever again." She whispered and he laughed and laughed and he put his arms around her. Held her tight. His Mary, his angel, the center of his world.

Sometimes, John Winchester forgot, that he was already dead.