Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: Dean was Mary's angel. But even angels fall and burn.
Dean was Mary's little miracle. Her little angel.
Mary had made a lot of silly mistakes in her life. Her life was an unfortunate by-product of regrets and faults. Her parents should never have married and brought her into the life. It was a pathetic excuse of a life. And, no matter how hard she tried or how good she was, there was always the clench of her stomach that reminded her that she would lose no matter what she did.
If she enjoyed her work, she'd be no better than the things that she hunted. If she didn't, she couldn't quite live. And, no matter her choices, for each she killed, there'd be another taking it's place. Her life was no better than those millions of people sitting on chairs, working their asses off, but never quite sure what for...their life were already spiralling down into meaninglessness. She was no better.
So, selfish, selfish Mary ran and got her parents killed and made a deal with a demon of all the creatures. She regretted and hated and cried in secret. But, she still couldn't live without The Hunt.
I'm just tying up loose ends. I am retired. I really am.
But, she couldn't live with it, either. It all weighed too heavily on her mind. She spiralled into depression. Maybe that's when the fighting started. Before, during, after didn't matter. The person she had destroyed her entire life for, was miserable with her.
Just when she thought she was perhaps destined for her dose of misery all her life, the angel popped up. She was pregnant. It didn't take too long for an absolute conviction to set in, Angels were watching over her boy.
She didn't know where it came from, but she was so, so sure of it.
She had never been particularly religious. Cynicism came in the job description. But, he (she didn't know how she knew. She just knew that it was a boy, long before the embryo was developed enough for sex determination) gave her something she was losing grip over: hope.
Even John stopped fighting with her. And it seemed almost all worth it.
He came into this world and she fell in love. Every decision, every bit of agony and pain was worth it to get to this beautiful moment, to keep him happy and safe.
After he was born, she spent hours doing nothing but staring at him. He was simply gorgeous. He looked like John too, but he was much, much more like her, with his dreamy green eyes and dirty blonde hair.
He was a lot like her by nature too; added with a little extra dose of hope and happiness and all things good.
It was rebirth, pure and simple. Every wrong against her she righted against him. She showered him with love and she was fiercely loved in return.
After every fight with John, he'd be there to pick up the pieces and clean up his father's mess. They'd hug and cry and laugh together. And life was finally worth living.
Sam came along, but Dean was special. He wasn't just her son. He was her best friend.
Even when John wasn't around, looking after Sammy wasn't just her job. He was so good with him that she was sure he could take care of that guy even if she wasn't there.
And then her mistakes did catch up to her, and she burned and screamed, all the while hoping angels really were looking out for her son. She was sure they were. He was one of them, after all. Righteous and good and filled with hope.
When she opened her eyes, she was outside. Mud on her bare feet. And a very familiar someone looking at her, tears in his eyes, "Mom?"
Her world shattered again.
She died and she failed. Her Dean was a grown hunter with jaded green eyes, cynical smiles, lost hope and shattered aspirations.
She was right about one thing: Angels had been looking out for him. And, he was righteous and pure, shaped in the image of the Archangel Michael himself, the first being God ever created. The perfect son, loving brother and fierce warrior.
What she hadn't known was this: Angels were not protectors; they were warriors. They'd kill millions for the sake of the greater good. They'd lie to keep control and destroy worlds in the name of their father.
That sounded so much like the jaded Dean that it scared her. Of course, this Dean would not get a happy ending. Of course, he was bitter. The family was cursed. She almost felt relief that they never settled down or had kids. It would be unfortunate to keep the bloodline alive.
She spent a little while with her sons. But they weren't her sons. They had died that day in a grand blaze of inferno when Dean was just 4 and Sam just 6 months old.
She had failed yet again and rebirth didn't mean a damn thing.
She said she wanted space but she just wanted to be away from them. Dean, most of all. He was the one who had shattered and torn everything.
Because angels were watching over him. And that was the scariest thing in the world.
So, this is my first fic, or rather one-shot. Let me know how you like it. Constructive criticism is always welcome.