This is my headcanon story of how Anna and John left this world. It is not horrific, so please stay dear reader! After the tragic events of the Christmas Special, I pondered about the mortality of my OTP and I have decided that I reject any other alternative plotlines for the sinking of my ship and thus, put forth a version of how their demise actually happened - far, far, away from Lord Fellowes hands. It is 1945 and WWII has ended.

Special Thanks to the lovely CHERRY88 who has read most of this story and who has given me very valid opinions and suggestions. I made many alterations. Besides being very appreciated and necessary, it was fangirling at its best!

A similar, more compacted snapshot of this idea was recently posted by another lovely author. I've had this story written for almost two months now, so, I promise I did not copy. I'd rather think that great minds think alike!

I do not own Downton Abbey or any of the characters. I lovingly borrow them from their rightful owners, Carnival and Lord Julian Fellowes, so that I can play with them just for a little while.

DOWNTON – Grantham Arms 1945

Annabelle observed the clock on the mantel behind her reception desk and discovered it was later in the day than she realized. It was almost time for luncheon and she had not even prepared little Mamie's snack. Luckily, her daughter had not felt hungry yet and had not said anything. Instead, the child was focused on dressing and undressing the beautiful doll her grandmum Anna had recently given to her. Mamie was a gentle child and was not prone to tantrums or raucous infantile behavior. She was three, but she had all the temperament of a refined little girl and that made it much easier for Annabelle to care for her and at the same time, manage the administrative tasks of the Grantham Arms, her family's Inn and pub. As such, she was currently processing the departure of the Porter sisters with the little girl sitting at her feet. The elder Ms. Porter would not have known that Mamie was there at all if not for the faint humming that was being emitted as she buttoned her doll's dress for the hundredth time that morning.

That brought a little smile to the kind old ladies.

"Thank you for staying with us," exclaimed Annabelle as the keys were handed back to her.

"Oh, no…..Thank You. Staying here was a delight. We will definitely come back if we are ever in Yorkshire again."

With that, the sisters turned to leave. Annabelle summoned Peter, the young man who served as bellman, clerk, footman and on the rare occasion, barman, when her husband Marcus needed a rest or help. The young man quickly dispatched the luggage to the awaiting transportation and then made himself busy nearby.

It suddenly dawned on Annabelle that her confusion with the time, thinking it was much earlier than it really was, was due, in part, because she hadn't seen her mother yet this morning. Her mum would usually come down by mid morning to inspect that everything was running smoothly, then disappear again back to her room to tend to her ailing father. In the afternoon, she would do it again. It was a routine that Annabelle was used to and the absence of it today had made her lose track of the time. It was unusual, she thought, that her mother had not been down yet. Perhaps she should go call on her parents. Her father had been delicate in the last days and maybe her mum needed help.

"Peter," she called, "I am going to call on my mum momentarily. Please see that Mamie stays here and cover the reception. I will be back soon."

The young man nodded and Annabelle moved around and out of the reception towards the courtyard path that led to the Inn's caretaker residence.

She sprinted the distance to their small two story house and knocked on their door repeatedly. She had the key, but never entered without knocking first. She always allowed her mum the opportunity to respond before pushing in. Yet, she'd had to use it in the recent past when her mum would fall asleep after tending to her father during the night. On these occasions, no amount of knocking would rouse her. It seemed that on this day, that would be the reason to use her key once again.

She moved inside quietly, trying to avoid making a stir that could startle her parents. She had glanced at the sitting room downstairs and saw no one. She listened intently, but could not gather that any activity was coming from the kitchen either.

"Mum?" she called with a tempered voice. When she didn't get a response, she called again. "Mum, Da, I'm here. Don't be startled, I am coming up."

She walked up the creaky, short flight of stairs, reaching the main bedroom quickly. Conscious that her father might be sleeping, she elected to not knock and slowly turned the knob so that she could gently make her way in.

It was dark, much darker than she expected. The curtains had not been drawn yet, so, the little light that was filtering into the room was coming from the small window, outside of their room and at the end of the hall. It was meager, but enough so that she could make out the silhouette of both her parents still in their bed, cuddling together.

Annabelle was surprised. It was not like her mum to spend so many hours in bed. Her father had been ill in the last weeks and she expected to see him resting, but not her mum. After so many years in service at the Abbey and the Inn, and much to her mum's chagrin, she would always wake at dawn and become active quickly. Annabelle thought briefly that her mum maybe had chosen this morning for a lie in. She was tempted to leave at once so as not to not disturb their peaceful slumber. Her mum deserved the rest after her dedicated vigils and she would hate it if they woke because of her. She took a few steps backward, reaching for the door to control any element of noise, when she realized that something did not seem right. With his ailment, her father found it hard to breath and lately, when he slept, there would be a wheezing sound emanating from him and occasionally a gasp. Annabelle heard nothing. There was no sound of breathing at all. This was not right. She couldn't detect her mother's usual loud inhalation either.

"Mum, Da, can you hear me?" She said in a firmer, louder tone.

No response came about. Annabelle started to panic and moved towards the windows to open a curtain, wishing to flood the room with light so that she could get a better picture. As she pulled the drapery to the side and fastened it quickly with the tieback, she could now see that her parents were actually not cuddling. She couldn't see their faces from her current angle, but her mother was actually atop of her father and they were holding hands. She moved forward and when they made no response towards her or the sudden flood of light in the room, Annabelle knew. Her parents, Anna and John Bates were here no more.

A/N:

Please despair not and keep reading – It's not all tears in this story.

I have tried to calculate people's ages. When DA starts, Anna is supposedly 26. She said so in one of her interviews. (She would have been born in 1886) You never know what age John is, but if he fought in the war (1899-1902) and is closer in age to Lord Grantham, he would be in his 40's. I choose for John to be 40 in 1912, so, the age difference is not too big, just 14 years. It's anyone's guess really, and JF is not telling. He would have been born in 1872. Thus, for this story, since it is 1945, Anna would be 59 and John would be 73. Since they married in 1919, they have been married 26 years. Central to this story, you will meet their children - Annabelle who was born in 1922 (conceived in Scotland, of course) and is now 23, their daughter Gwendolyn, born in 1924 and their son William who would have been born in 1926 and is now 19. They have a granddaughter too!

Also, in my story, they did end up with their dream. They purchased a little hotel, in this case, the Grantham Arms. They never wanted to leave Downton. John couldn't do without the Bromance with Lord Grantham, and neither Anna nor Mary could ever stand to be separated. This is fan fiction, right?

A note about the title – In my country, we have a song, "Las Golondrinas" (The Swallows) that is sung at funerals or when somebody is going someplace – graduation, moving away, etc. It is about the epic migration these small birds undertake. Thus, it is sung in remembrance of the eternal migration that the dead person is embarking on. If you speak Spanish, you know you've heard it… There are several versions on YouTube if anybody is interested. It felt entirely appropriate for my Anna and John….

I promise next chapters will not have that much editorial in it…..