AN: Wrote this after 5x13, Song Remains the Same. Just a quicky, but I left in my Docs folder and never touched it again. I found it tonight and decided to post it to see if anyone may like it. Let me know what you think. :D

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

By the time I recognize this moment
This moment will be gone
But I will bend the light,
pretend that it somehow lingered on

-"Clarity" - John Mayer

The baby monitor flickered and crackled with white noise, the weak whine of an infants distress waking Mary from her light slumber. She sighed as she rose, reaching out for her husband next to her and finding the empty space, wanting to tell him that it was his turn to go attend to the baby. She groaned slightly, but sleepily made her way toward the nursery doorway, seeing a male figure standing over the crib.

"You got him John?"

He made a shushing gesture with his hand to his mouth and she nodded with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Alright, alright." She turned to head downstairs for a glass of water, her eyes still have open from sleep. She reached the landing, however, and was met by the static glow of the television.

And her husband, slumped in his armchair asleep in front of it. Her eyes shot open, suddenly very awake, and she spun, water forgotten as she bolted upstairs "Sammy!"

She took the stairs two by two, her heart hammering against her ribcage as a million different scenarios played in her head all at once. She arrived at the doorway out of breath, and without a plan, just bursting into the room with gusto and standing there, drawing the attention of the offending figure. He turned, and all she saw were his eyes above a familiar sinister smile; golden, yellow eyes. She inhaled sharply, taking a few steps back.

"It's you."

Memories from that horrible day came pouring back into her mind as if it were only yesterday, and it's almost like she's 18 again and her fianc is dead in front of her, his neck twisted at an impossibly sick angle. He lays in her lap, his body growing cold and stiff, and the monster is sitting across from her, wearing her father's fatally wounded body for the moment. She remembers with a shiver, the disgust of kissing those lips, of understanding what it meant and hearing the yell from behind her as she broke it.

She had turned to see him standing there. Dean Van Halen had been a drifter, a hunter who had stumbled out of Lawrence as quickly as he had stumbled in, leaving no trace or evidence of his existence ever. She had heard the of the band later on with the same name, and knew his last name was probably a cover for his real one. She had thought about him a few times over the years, mostly on the anniversary of her parent's death, and prayed to never see him again. She had nothing against the man, but he represented an aspect of her life that was over now. He had also mysteriously appeared just in time for this yellow eyed monster's appearance, had seemed to know things about him that were a little too on. Had actually found the gun she had thought a myth her entire life. Had been there just until her parents were dead, and there was something about that sent her hunter's intuition into overdrive.

She remembered his words then, and thought about the date. She had been flipping through records and he had left, thinking it was the last time he would see her. He had approved of John, even when her own father had not, and seemed so sad, when she spoke of her dreams for her future. And had made the strangest request.

"On November 2nd, 1983...don't get out of bed. No matter what you hear...please. Don't get out of bed."

He had cried, one lone tear falling down his face and he had wiped it away. It had seemed odd to her, but she waved it off, especially in the aftermath. John had been disoriented enough that he had not remembered anything from that night and she was able to make up a convenient story of a heart attack after they had fled the town.

But there he was, gold eyes narrowed and she felt herself thrown back, pinned to the wall against her will. Her mind screamed, and she opened her mouth to holler a warning but found her voice silenced. She thought about the terms of the deal, and did quick, mental math. 10 years, 6 months. To the day.

...ten years I need to swing by your house for a little something, that's all...as long as I'm not interrupted, nobody gets hurt, I promise....

As long as I'm not interrupted...

But he had been, by her. Even though she had been warned by the mysterious drifter, even though the demon himself had warned her, but it didn't matter. Sammy seemed fine, and she could even begin to hear his whine at the slight disturbance in his room, her body causing a picture to shake on the wall as it made contact. She felt her body begin to slide upward and she realized suddenly, horrifingly, that she was going to die.

She had always heard that your life flashed before your eyes before it happened, but she didn't really know what to expect. It was so fast too, almost too much to process. Memories of her mother and father flooded into her mind, of her childhood knowing about ghosts and vampires and demons, how to dismantle and repair a gun in seconds. Meeting John...hating John...loving John. Their wedding...pregnancy...Dean...then Sam...

But something made her begin to think, her mind beginning to race. In the moments it was taking for her body to travel upward, she could feel the skin on her abdomen become tight, as if something were ripping at it. She was on the ceiling now, and she opened her mouth in a silent scream as she felt her midsection split open, blood quickly soaking her nightgown. The demon was gone now, but she remained pinned, staring down at her infant son as he kicked and waved his arms.

In between the memories of John, and their marriage and their children, something was missing; her mind scrambled to fill in the pieces, to find something that always seemed to be missing for her. As she lost more blood, and became more dizzy, drawing closer to the veil of death, she remembered it then, images and then...

Dean Van Halen. And his brother Sam, had come to her house. Angels wanted them dead.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered the day she had seen him again. She had tried to make him go away, she'd been cruel to him. But when they got to the garage and met her, understood what she was and what she was trying to do. She remembered how she had fought the angel, how she had explained everything to John, and taken them to a family home in the middle of nowhere in Lawrence to hole up.

How she had demanded the explanation from Dean Van Halen and he had skirted it, avoiding the explanation until she had threatened to leave, finally tired of all the lies and the secrets.

I'm your son.

She thought about Dean now, as she looked down upon Sammy in his crib. The man she had seen had seemed tired, and sad, as if life had had it's way with him more than once, and she had felt bad for him then just as she had felt bad for him when she had met him the 10 years before. These new images and clips seemed unreal, like a movie or something that was long forgotten and meant to stay that way. Buried deep in her subconscious so that only death could bring them to light, it was as if she had to make peace with her destiny. She thought about his request from 1973 once more, how tears had filled his eyes, and recognized the tone now as pleading. She remember how emotional he had gotten when she claimed she would never let her kids be raised as hunters.

...please. Don't get out of bed.

He loved her. And he didn't want this anymore than she did. He was begging her, as her son, to help him. To save him from this, to save themselves and their family from this fate. She thought about her eldest son, now only four, a happy boy with a bright, wide smile, and an infectious laugh. A little boy who just wanted to help his mom with his brother and play catch with his dad. A little boy who loved his family immensely and deserved normalcy. Tears filled her eyes as she quickly came to terms with who Dean Van Halen really was.

Dean.

She wanted to cry at the realization that the broken older man and her little boy had been one and the same, but she couldn't as her mind propelled her forward, uncovering other memories that had been locked away for years, fabricated and covered up by more powerful beings, ones she reassured Dean with at night as she tucked him in. She understood why now they seemed to come flooding back to her.

"You die..."

By now, Sammy had started to whine a bit more, and she could hear her husbands footsteps approaching. She remembered Dean's confession, his explanation of how their family had gotten so fucked up...how her death had pushed John to explore the supernatural and sent him on a lifelong quest of revenge at the expense of their son's innocence.

John was looking down at Sammy now, fingertips grazing the boys chubby cheeks as her blood dropped down, and she could feel heat gathering around her torso. Fear began to well inside of her, and she began to pray as she had never done before. She saw John's face turn upward, saw his expression turn from one of confusion to horror, and then she felt the fire engulf her. Dean! Sammy!

And then it was black.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

She blinked once.

Then twice, shielding her eyes with her arms as light shined bright in front of her. She dropped her head to look at her body, and smoothed her nightgown down with her hands, checking to see where her wound had been, and finding the cloth unmarked. She was in a room of pure white, a desk and a chair near her, and she sat, not knowing what else to do. She had no idea where she was.

"Hello Mary."

She spun at the voice, and was shocked to see...nothing. No one stood in front of her or behind her. Instead, the voice seemed to come from a corner of the room and as she stared, it materialized into the form of a human, without any discernible features. However, anger balled in her gut, and from her newly renewed memories, she spoke it's name, fury in her words.

"Michael." She spat. "You son of a---"

"That's not the kind of language that should be spoken in the Kingdom, Mary." He replied calmly, interrupting her. "We've been expecting you."

"How dare you. You wiped my mind. You made me forget." She accused, marching toward the figure.

"You should feel privileged. Most don't get this elaborate of a welcome."

"I deserve an explanation. You took those memories from me...I could've saved my boys!" She exclaimed, not backing down from the ethereal being. He seemed only to stand taller, more condescending when he spoke again.

"It was not what was meant to be." He replied calmly, his features becoming more distinct, more like the last person he had taken as a vessel in order to save her family. Her heart ached as John's younger feature's became sharper and sharper. "Your boys are meant for something much greater than this, and this is the path they must take."

"But why? What could be so important that you have to do this? You're supposed to be good! You're angels!"

"As one of my brother's will one day tell your son; we're warriors of God, Mary." He explained lightly. "They are destined for much more important things than just being a normal human being Mary."

"Like what? Tell me why you just ruined my sons lives! You took my memories!" Tears welled in her eyes. "John raises them to become hunters," She said the word as if it burned her lips, her eyes narrowing. "That is the last thing I ever wanted for my children, and this is how it happens. Why? I deserve to know. What harm can I do now?"

"They are to be the means to The End. The only reason you and John were ever matched up. Much like it was myself and Lucifer, it will be Dean and Sam, respectively. They are to enable us to facilitate the End of Days. If the battle must be fought on Earth instead of in Heaven, we must have physical, human hosts. You're boys...are those hosts." He paused, tilting his head before repeating himself. "Respectively."

She swung at him, her anger peaking, and he merely smiled and dodged the blow. He grabbed her, forcing her still, as the white around them faded to her dining room, familiar with the high chair and booster seat around the table. Tears gathered in her eyes. "This is your heaven, isn't it Mary? This is where you can stay, in the Kingdom, forever, and ever..."

"You can take your Amen and shove it." She spat. "Send me back. I know you can do it. Let me go back. I don't want to be here." She pulled her arm away with surprising force. "I don't want anything to do with your God."

Michael frowned. "I will not return you to your body. Well," He smirked. "There's not too much of a body left. I can return you to your home, but you know what will happen then."

"Daddy, how do ghosts become ghosts? If they were once people?"

"I don't care." Tears were now cascading down her cheeks. "A millenia in purgatory would be better than having to be here, alone without them, with you." She spat, yanking herself away. Because she knew what John would become, what Sam would have to become if Lucifer himself was his destiny. There was nothing but pain, and heartache in store for her boys and she'd be damned if she was going to spend an eternity in a place of supposed peace and happiness if the ones she loved weren't going to get the same thing.

"Besides," She sniffed. "Maybe I can do some good, somehow. Maybe they'll come back."

Michael laughed. "Don't count on it. Dean will never come back to Lawrence; he will swear to himself, to never return." He shook his head. "This is truly what you want?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes." She ground out. Michael sighed.

"Goodbye Mary."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"No, don't. Don't!"

"What? Why?!"

"Because I know who it is. I can see her now."

"Mom?"

The pride for her boys threatened to overwhelm her ability to help them, but she stayed strong, as she had only moments. She remained comforted by one thought; if Michael could be wrong about Dean ever coming back to this home, being able to go against himself for someone else, then she figured he could surely be wrong about everything else too.

And I will wait to find
If this will last forever
And I will pay no mind
That it won't and it won't,
because it can't
...
It's not supposed to...