Hello and welcome! I know a lot of people had been requesting a fourth story in the Angel Season series, so here we go. This is the last in the chronological series, meaning I might write extras and whatnot, but they will not continue the plot (they'll be during the pregnancies again, etc). This is it. If you've had questions in the earlier fics, ask them now or forever wonder! Before we get started, I need you to know three things—First, there is a lot more heterosexual sex in this than the others, both this series and my writing as a whole. Second, this story is not Destiel-centric. It rather follows Mary. Yes, there is plenty of Dean, Cas and the rest of the family, but they aren't the main plotline. And finally—technically the sex with Mary and others is underage, but I haven't flagged it as such because, as the story will explain early on, *she is physically matured to the level of a 20 year old.* So technically speaking it's underage, but she is mentally and physically an adult. I hope this isn't a problem for anyone. I apologize for the lack of gaylove, but that's just how this story has developed.
Get your tissues ready!

It's around midnight and the world is silent. A streetlamp flickers outside of a small suburban home, but other than that, all is still. Within the home, a baby has just been put down to sleep, his mother touching his forehead gently while humming to herself. She thinks something along the lines of, "He's finally asleep" or so, sighs contentedly and leaves the nursery in the hopes of finally getting some sleep. But there is a sound downstairs that stops this from happening. Assuming it to be her husband, she descends the stairs sleepily, rubbing her eyes as she follows the noise into the living room.

"Go to bed, hon," she mutters, but stops in her tracks when she sees a woman standing by a bookshelf. She's quite young and wears a long, brown braid.

"Oh!" the intruder gasps, looking surprised but also delighted to see the mother.

"What are you doing in my house?!" The woman growls. She suddenly turns from a loving mother into an angry bear.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come at this time."

"Who are you?! What are you doing in my house?!"

The older woman, a blonde, slowly takes steps backwards and towards the kitchen, knowing that a gun is on top of the refrigerator. The young lady doesn't move. She examines the blonde curiously.

"Answer the questions!"

"Please," says the brunette, "I have no intentions of hurting you. I've come to talk."

The mother pauses.

"About what?"

"You."

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to get to know you."

"Why?"

The young woman turns to the bookshelf and lifts up a small, framed photo. The older woman is pictured standing beside her husband.

"You're Mary, aren't you?" the brunette asks. The older woman gasps sharply.

"How do you know?"

"Hah…is Dean here?"

"Dean?"

"Oh, he isn't…have you not…"

The younger of them puts the photo down and scratches the back of her head. For a moment, her eyes flash a blinding grey. Mary has yet another sudden change to her demeanor and she bolts to the kitchen, rummaging through a bottom cabinet with fury but still trying to be silent enough that her family doesn't wake up. Surprisingly, the intruder doesn't even take a step.

"It hasn't been ten years yet," Mary says when she returns, her face looking grey as she opens a glass milk bottle now filled with water. "I don't know why you're here."

"Ten years? What ten years?"

"Get out!"

Water is splashed all over the young woman but nothing happens. In fact, it feels good. She smiles and closes her eyes. "Holy water? Do you think I'm a demon?"

"Who else has eyes like that?"

"What, like these?"

Again, the grey glows brightly. Mary shields her eyes. There is a tiny, high-pitched ringing sensation in her ears.

"What about these? Do demons have these?"

Along with the eyes, this young lady now conjures a pair of brilliant wings on her back. They glow in beautiful unison with her eyes and Mary is speechless. She falls to her knees.

"Y-you're an angel, aren't you?" she whispers.

"Almost."

"Almost? How can you be almost?"

"I'm half."

The wings fold away and disappear as do the glowing eyes. The woman remains on the floor, shaking now, but the Nephilim stoops down to her level and touches her shoulder.

"Why are you here?" Mary asks.

"I wanted to talk to my grandmother."

"…your…grand…mother?"

"Yeah."

The young woman nods. "You're my grandmother."

"Then your—"

"Dean is my father."

"And your mother is—"

"An angel. Yes."

"How?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Oh, my god."

Mother Mary falls into her granddaughter's embrace and begins to cry. It's unclear if they are tears of sorrow or happiness. Perhaps they're both.

"Why does my baby boy know an angel?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Oh…oh, no, no!"

The blond woman looks up with red eyes. "Why have you—you've traveled time, right?"

"Yes."

"Why did you travel time to see me?"

"Because I've never met you. Um, well, my father talks about you all of the time."

"Then I'm dead?"

"I don't think it's my place to tell you these things."

The woman cries harder.

"Stop! Don't be sad."

"B-but, ooh…I don't even know what to think!"

The Nephilim hugs her grandmother tightly. She brings her pretty wings out again and wraps them around her. This makes mother Mary hear a soft twinkling, not unlike a music box, calming and soothing in her ears.

"My father is amazing," she says. "He's a wonderful father. He's doing an incredible job raising me. There have been troubles, but all is well now."

"Is that true?"

"Yes. All is well."

"Oh, my…oh, granddaughter. I can't believe it! What's your name?"

"Mary."

"Mary! Ah! He's a momma's boy after all."

"I think so?"

Mother Mary sits back from the Nephilim's embrace and wipes her eyes, laughing through tears. "Are there any more of you?"

"Three."

"Three! Wow! Dean and his angel lady must be pretty busy."

"Um. Right."

"And you're all half-angel?"

"Yes."

"Incredible. I'm so happy to meet you, despite the revelation."

"Me, too. I just wanted to know my namesake. But I have to go back now, sadly."

"Really? You can't stay?"

"Sorry. It's hard to pull off a stunt like this!"

"Then wait. Hold on. Err…"

Mother Mary stands up and starts going around the house frantically. She picks up a couple of things, moving from room to room, all the while young Mary stands in the living room awkwardly.

"Take these back home, would you?" Mother Mary asks, giving her granddaughter a bag. "You can do that, right?"

"I think so."

"It would mean a lot to me."

"I'll try. Thank you."

"Oh, Mary…"

The blonde woman takes her granddaughter's face in her hands and kisses her nose. She hands to stand on her toes to reach her.

"So tall, too! Dean must be a tall boy."

"He is."

"Handsome?"

"That's what I'm told."

"Smart?"

"He has his moments. He's strong and brave, silly at times."

"That's great. Oh, that's so great. Tell him that I love him, won't you?"

"I will."

The older woman begins to tear up again.

"And I love you, too."

"I suppose I love you as well, grandmother. Goodbye."

"Bye, Mary…"

SNAP!

With a great flash, Mary pops back into her present time. The bag goes spinning out of her hands and hits the floor.

"Oops!"

She stumbles to grab everything and puts it up on her bed. Checking the time, she's only been gone a couple of minutes. Good! And she feels alright, too. That was a successful first time bending reality.

Knock knock knock…

"Mary?"

It's Castiel.

"I heard a noise that sounded like the manipulation of a wormhole. Are you doing something you shouldn't be?"

"No!"

"May I come in?"

"Ah!"

Mary throws a blanket over the bag.

"Yes!"

The door opens up and an unchanged Cas walks in. He's been working in the yard and has a dirty gardening apron on. Ellen, now eight years old and bright blonde, follows. She's a shy little girl and is stuck to her mother like Velcro.

"What were you doing?" asks Cas.

"Studying."

"What manner of studying?"

Mary clears her throat.

"F-family things. You know. Dad was telling me about my grandparents the other day so I was doing a little research."

"Oh. Well, all right, then."

Cas sniffs.

"I still think something is off. If I hear anymore strange noises, you'll be in trouble."

"I'm fine."

"Mm. Okay. Take care of yourself. Come on, Ellen. Let's plant those um, what were they?"

"Roses," the little girl's tiny voice says.

"Ah, yes. That's right. The roses."

Once they're gone and the door is shut, Mary pulls the bag out from her blanket and dumps the contents out onto her desk. There are numerous photos, a couple of tiny trinkets and—oddly enough—a slice of pie put into a small glass dish. Mary fingers the objects curiously. They're necklace charms or something. She sits down at her desk and examines the photos next. They are mostly pictures of extended family, she guesses, and Dean would value them better than she could. There is a baby in a few, and the back of the pictures names him Dean. "Oh," Mary thinks, "I guess she had had him."

Before she can get any further, her bedroom door slams open again, only this time comes twelve year old Bobby. He's getting tall, too, though it will be a while until he's hitting the 5'10" that Mary is. His development is more typical of humans; he looks like a normal twelve year old boy, whereas Mary, who is currently sixteen, has blossomed into the final stage of development. She appears to be around twenty.

"Please don't come in without knocking!" Mary shouts at her brother.

"Hey! Where'd you get that?"

He points to the pie.

"Stop. This doesn't concern you."

"Is that pie? Why do you have pie? Can I have some?"

"Bobby, please."

He tightens his fists and starts to shout, "MARY HAS PIE AND SHE WON'T SHARE IT! MARY HAS PII-IEE!"

On cue, Dean rushes into the bedroom. He's not too far away from hitting fifty now and it's pretty obvious. After complaining about the slight extra weight he was putting on, Cas insisted that he take better care of himself. So he isn't getting any fatter, but instead he has frequent aches and pains and he's wrinkling more every day.

"Where's the pie?!"

"There!" Bobby yells, pointing.

"Hey, that's weird. Mary, where'd you get this container?"

Mary widens her eyes. There's no stopping it now. Dean comes over to the desk and picks it up. He sniffs.

"Mary—where—did—you—get—this?!"

"Um…"

"Are you time traveling?!"

"Ah! No! I'm not! I swear."

Her eyes flash grey for a moment and Dean laughs.

"You know Nephilim are terrible liars," he says. Mary groans.

"I'm sorry! I was just so curious about grandmother after you were showing me those pictures."

Dean sighs. "Bobby, can you go help your mama with the gardening?"

"That's baby stuff," Bobby grunts.

"Bobby. Out. Now."

"Okay, okay…jeez…"

Dean clears close to Mary and whispers, "Did you go back and see your grandma?"

"I did."

"She gave you this pie?"

"And these."

Mary pushes the photos and charms into Dean's sight. The man freezes upon seeing them.

"Holy crap."

"Is this okay?"

"I won't tell your mom."

"Thank you."

"But promise never to do it again."

"I won't. I'm sorry."

"You're way smart enough to know that fudging around with that stuff can seriously mess stuff up. You make one wrong move and suddenly I never meet Cas and then you aren't born."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Dean kisses Mary on the top of her head and she smiles.

"But I need this."

He grabs the pie.

"It's for you, anyway," Mary says. "Also, grandmother wanted me to tell you that she loves you."

Dean holds the pie close to his chest and takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes painfully then claps a hand onto Mary's shoulder.

"I know," he says stiffly, trying not to cry. "Thanks. You're a good girl." Mary grins. Dean chuckles.

"We talked about this, dad."

"Right, right. You're a good woman. A beautiful young woman. I mean, damn if we weren't related—"

"Stop!"

"Sorry." Dean clears his throat. "Forget I said anything. I'm gonna help your mama with the gardening."

"O-okay. But don't show him the pie!"

"I'll have that first."

"Haha, all right."

Dean leaves with the coveted pastry and Mary is once again alone. She drums her fingers on her desk and looks at the many journals she has been keeping. The memories of being stuck inside the bunker, dreaming of the big world come flooding into her mind. That's not a problem anymore because she's allowed to leave. She has decent control over her powers and can blend in with humanity quite well. In fact, she even has a job. It's not much but it gets her out of the bunker and earns some money. Okay, well, Dean got a job, too. There just hasn't been any demonic activity to make a profession out of hunting anymore. After Mary trapped Crowley in the black cage, Hell hadn't been active at all.

"Crowley," Mary thinks to herself. "I wonder how he's doing down there?"