This is just a oneshot story I wrote after reading a post on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy.
Imagine a universe where Mary Winchester never made a deal with a demon so never burned to death and John never had to avenge her. Imagine Dean growing up truly loved and cared for, joining the science club and becoming a doctor so that he could help people, getting married and having a daughter who he name Charlie Marie Winchester. Imagine Dean and Sam having monthly "hunting" trips that consist of them driving to the family's cabin with beer and burgers to just hang out and get away from everything just so they can have some brotherly time because they are best friends.
But then one day everything changes.
Dean comes home from work to find the front door to his house ajar and no lights on inside. He steps over the threshold hesitantly, calling his wife's name. He gets no response. As his heart starts to pound and his mind begins racing he thanks his guardian angel that Charlie is having a play date at Uncle Sam's house. He calls his wife's name again, this time louder. Still no response. Dean runs from room to room, the sound of his heart pounding becomes the only thing he can hear.
Finally he has checked every room but one. He stands at the door to his bedroom with his hand on the knob and his stomach in his throat. Turning the knob he pushes the door open and his blood runs cold. Lying on his bed is his wife's lifeless, pale body with a bloody hulking figure hunched above her. Dean can't move as he watches the figure turn. It lunges at Dean who is still in shock.
Suddenly time starts again for Dean and he bolts downstairs. The figure is right on his heels as he skids into his kitchen flinging open drawers in search of something, anything he can use to fend off the murderer. The figure reaches Dean just as he pulls a butcher knife from a drawer.
Dean is slammed back against the solid, dark cabinets his hand hitting the marble countertop causing him to nearly drop the only weapon he has. A bloodied face snarls at him and he finally gets a good look at the thing that killed his wife. The figure is a man, but not a man. His eyes are wrong and rows of razor sharp teeth grin at him through thin, crimson lips. His wife's blood is still dripping off the thing's chin as he bares down on Dean's neck.
Lifting the butcher knife Dean tries to hit the thing but it's quicker than he is. They struggle together over the sharp blade, the bloody creature getting the upper hand, pressing the knife against Dean's throat. Using every ounce of strength he has left Dean heaves and turns the blade. The knife lodges deep in the creature's neck. It blinks at Dean surprised as blood pours down it's front. Dean heaves once more before the creature has time to react and drives the knife all the way through the other side of the thing's neck. It's head falls to the floor with a wet thud next to the crumpled body.
The world goes still as Dean stares down at the lifeless body strewn bloody across the hardwood. His arms hang limp at his sides as reality settles over him. The image of his wife on their bed flashes before is eyes. Dropping the knife he stumbles back up the stairs and down the hallway. His feet catch on each other as he enters his bedroom.
Standing beside his bed Dean stares at is wife's slender fingers, gracefully resting on the duvet beside her. He can't bring himself to look at her face knowing that the moment he does it all becomes real. If he can just focus on her fingers, her palms, the way they're touching the duvet she bought last weekend... Memories of her small hand in his large one fill his hand and he reaches out. Her skin is too cold against his. Without thinking he looks up at her face, the shock of her icy hand in his breaking the illusion. He falls to his knees beside her, all the feeling leaving him as the gaping tear in her throat stares back at him. The sheets beneath her are drenched in crimson and her pale blue dress is torn. Dean's stomach heaves and he tastes bile at the back of his throat. Turning away he empties the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Empty and cold he turns back to his wife's body tears streaming down his face as he sees the stricken look in his wife's wide blue eyes.
He sits there weeping by her side, his hand gripping hers, the room getting steadily darker with every second as the sun slips below the horizon. Time stretches on without Dean realizing until suddenly he feels a firm hand on his shoulder. He jumps and looks up to see the horrified face of his brother.
"Dean! What happened?"
Dean's eyes won't focus as his mind tries to remember how to speak.
"I'm calling the police! Dean are you hurt?"
Sam's voice brings Dean slowly out of the darkness.
"No. No, I'm not hurt." Dean says, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Dean turns back to the bed his mind still numb and his heart empty. Sam speaks quietly into his cell phone but the words are lost on Dean, all he can hear is his own broken heart.
Sam kneels down beside Dean and puts his hand on his shoulder again.
"Dean? Dean the police are on their way. Jess is in the car downstairs with Charlie. I'm gunna go tell them what's happening." Sam's words sound far away in Dean's ears, but one word sticks out.
"Charlie."
"Yeah she's downstairs. She's safe Dean."
Memories of his wife's smile on a tiny face float to the surface of his memory.
"She can't see this! You can't let her see..." Dean grabs his brother, panicked.
"I won't! She won't see anything Dean, I swear." Sam assures his stricken brother quickly.
Dean relaxes his grip of his brother and turns back to the bed. Time slips past him again as the events of the evening play out again in his mind. Suddenly Sam is back as his side pulling him to his feet. Bodies fill the room and move purposefully towards his wife. Dean lunges at them.
"Don't touch her!" Dean screams grabbing an EMT by the throat.
"Dean!" Dam rests his hand on his brother's arm.
"Dean, it's alright. They're not gunna hurt her. They're just going to move her. Dean, it's ok." Sam's voice gently urges as he pulls his brother's hand from the woman's throat.
Dean turns, his eyes wide and unfocused.
"Let's go downstairs Dean." Sam gently pulls his brother towards the bedroom door.
Too weak to put up a fight Dean allows Sam to drag him from the room, but his eyes never leave the face of his wife.
The rest of the night is made up of Dean being forced to relive the worst moments of his life while cops scribble away in their notepads looking at him pityingly. The more he goes over it the more real everything becomes and the pain in his chest grows to overwhelming proportions. Then a stretcher is rolled past him where he is talking to the cops in his foyer and all he can see is the black bag lying across it.
Forgetting the officer asking him questions and Sam standing tall by his side he follows the stretcher out the door and watches as the ME's load it into the back of an ambulance. Suddenly all the lights are too bright and sounds are too sharp. His stomach clenches and he bends over the potted plant on his front step as if to vomit but his gut is already empty and he only dry heaves. A warm hand rubs his back until the wave of nausea subsides. He stands up and stares as the ambulance pulls away.
"Daddy!" Something solid collides with Dean's legs and he looks down.
"Charlie! Sweetie, come back! Your daddy needs..."
"It's alright Jess." Dean stops her and lifts his small daughter into his arms.
"Daddy, where's mommy?" Charlie frowns at her dad tears in the corners of her eyes.
Taking a deep breath Dean tries to find the words.
"Mommy's gone baby. She's... she's with the angels now." Tears choke the words in his throat as he looks at Charlie's sweet, round face.
"Why did she have to go daddy? Is she coming back?"
"No baby, she's not coming back." Dean barely gets the words out before his closes.
"Why?" Charlie starts to cry and all Dean can do is shake his head.
He pulls her in, holding her tight against him as he is overcome by sobs.
The next few weeks go by in a blur with the funeral and condolence cards and casseroles. He and Charlie stay with his parents because the house is still a crime scene while the investigation is happening but Dean doesn't mind. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to go back to that house, not after everything that happened.
Finally the case is closed. The police tell Dean that the "man" was on some new kind of hallucinogenic and had a psychotic break and unlike his father and his brother would have, Dean takes this explanation at face value. He focuses on loving and caring for Charlie who is the spitting image of her mother and let's the rest go. He never hunts, he never searches for the supernatural and he never puts his child through the trauma that John Winchester put him through in this miserable reality.
Dean Winchester continues to live as normal a life as he is able.