A/N: This piece is unedited. All mistakes are mine. Apologies. :)
Disclaimer : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
It's moments like these he yearns for her the most.
Nights darker than others, the loneliness threatening to swallow him whole.
Moments he misses her the most—her warmth, her affection, the love he still remembers after all these years.
She always made him feel secure. She knew just the right thing to say. Always.
And he needs her right now.
Clutching the worn photograph closer to his chest, Dean closes his eyes- trying to keep the tears at bay.
He can not cry; isn't supposed to. That isn't what his father expects of him-the father passed out on the couch across the motel room. Normally, Dean would help him to bed, but not today. He is too exhausted to even consider it.
Tossing around, he tries to push down another pang of pain, trying to tune out the memories-way too many of them.
He doesn't know how much time passes before a mild breeze wafts over him.
And he feels it.
Feels her.
His mother, Mary Winchester.
Crooking an eye open slowly, he looks up to see her sitting next to him, smiling just like she did all those years ago. Her soft fingers comb through his hair as she gently lifts his head and places it in her lap.
"Mom!" A sob breaks in his chest, the levee breaking and flooding his being with pent up emotions.
"Shh… It's OK, Dean." Her voice is soft, filled with affection, blue eyes reflecting love.
"S-Sammy left today, and Dad… told him not to come back. He's never gonna…"
A small chuckle escapes her lips. "You know how those two are. Sam did what he had to, and your Dad… well, he's just being your Dad. Don't you worry. It'll be fine."
And at that moment, he believes her- just like he believed everything she said when he was a kid.
He wants to ask her so many things, tell her so much, but is too afraid she'll disappear. So he grabs her hand-trying to bask in her affection while it lasts. Voice barely audible, Dean mutters. "I miss you, mom. I… I wish you were here. You'd know how to make it better."
"I know, sweetie." There is a long pause, a forlorn silence before she whispers. "I wish so, too." She continues rubbing soothing circles over his temple. "But you've always made it better, Dean. You've kept my family together. Alive and healthy. I know you'll make this better, too."
The way she smiles at him breaks Dean's heart. God, he can't get over how much he misses her. What would he not do to have her back!
"Why don't you get some sleep? Hmm?"
He doesn't want to, because he knows she'll be gone the moment he closes his eyes, but he's too tired to fight the exhaustion finally overpowering him.
"Love you, mom." He whispers, clutching her hands tighter, and another lone tear traverses down his cheek, caressing the light splatter of freckles on it's way.
He feels a soft kiss on his temple just before her sweet voice fills the room, lulling him to sleep.
Hey Jude!
She's singing the lullaby she did when he was a baby.
And just before he falls asleep, her whisper fills the room, winding it's way around his heart. "My little Angel."
A/N : Alright, hit me up with your thoughts if you wanna. :)
Have a good day.
Chamsp.
