Disclaimer: "Supernatural" and all related logos, titles and characters are trademarks of the CW and Warner Bros. I own nothing, Eric Kripke is the brilliant creator of this awesome show.
It was a cold and dark night, the wind whistling past the grey house in Lawrence, Kansas. It had been a hectic few days, Halloween being only two nights ago. Mary hadn't dared to clear away the Halloween decorations before today. But now she carefully put the fake cobwebs back into their box, swept up the salt lining the windows and scrubbed the chalk marks off her walls. Her husband, John, was already settled for the TV, engrossed in his rugby game. Mary gathered the remains of her eldest son's candy and threw away the empty wrappers. Dean probably wouldn't want a big breakfast tomorrow, she thought.
She lifted the box in her arms and carefully walked up the stairs. Next to her, a light on the wall flickered softly. Mary stood still and watched it, before putting down her box and tapping the light. It flickered a few times more but then stopped. Satisfied, Mary continued her way up the stairs. Arriving upstairs, she passed the first room in the hallway quietly, casting a casual glance inside. Inside his crib, her youngest son -Sam- was sleeping soundly.
After she finished putting away the decorations she walked back towards the stairs. And paused. The clock on the opposite wall was stuck on the wrong time. It should have pointed to twelve o'clock, but instead it was stuck on three.
A sudden unease filled her.
Mother-instinct drove her back towards Sam's nursery. Where first there had been nothing, there was now a silhouette leaning over the crib. Mary screamed. The shadow turned around, and faster then she could follow, grabbed her and yanked her into the room. She struggled against it, kicking and yelling. Downstairs, she heard John call her name. It only made her panic more. John could not come here.
The attacker seemed to think the same and spun her around, the door falling closed behind him. The sudden darkness blinded her. The attacker pinned her to the wall and leaned close. "Did you think I wouldn't find you here? That you could just move across the country and start a nice, apple pie life?"
"I fooled you for four years, didn't I?" she hissed back. In her head she was frantically trying to remember how she could get loose. A weapon. She needed a weapon. Where had she hid them? If she could just find one she could get him away from her son. She wasn't going to let him get the best of her. Not ever.
Her attacker smirked. "Fooled me? Oh grow up Mary, I never lost you."
"GET AWAY FROM HER!"
The door burst open, and in the blinding light spilling from the hallway stood her husband. There was something in his hands, and he swung it up expertly. "Mary, duck!"
A shot ran out in the tiny room. Mary fell back against the wall when her attacker released her suddenly. He dove to the other side, but instead of falling down he came up again, grabbed the still smoking barrel and yanked. John toppled over and the shotgun went flying through the window, shattering the glass. In the chaos, Sam had started wailing. Now free, Mary lunged toward him and snatched him up before the attacker could grab her again. With her son safely in her arms she turned and ran.
Behind her John was yelling. She didn't stop to listen. There was heavy thump and then only silence. The light on the stairs had started flickering again. She froze before it. Mocking laughter came from behind her.
"Still so feisty! Glad to see that hasn't changed, Mary. I was almost afraid you would have turned into a meek, suburban mom."
Mary slowly turned. Her attacker strode confidentially from the room. The flickering light of the hallway made the entire scene seem unreal. But this was no fairy tale. Mary should have known. She had let her guard down too much. And now her family was paying the price for it. She could run, but there were no weapons downstairs. He would catch up to her. If she could just get past him. Maybe if she was fast enough she could get to her closet, get her old, illegal stash of weaponry. She could get rid of him. Permanently this time.
But she was holding Sam. And there was no way she would risk bringing Sam anywhere near that monster. If only John had stayed downstairs… She needed an extra set of hands now. Desperately, she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.
"I will give you one last warning, Azazel. Get out of my house."
Azazel laughed again, a horrible, rusted sound, like a knife getting dragged down a chalkboard. "It's too late for threats now. I'm done playing games with you, no matter how entertaining it is to see you struggle. Give me the boy."
Mary clutched Sam tighter. He was still crying. Soft, scared sounds like he knew exactly what was going on. "No."
Azazel shrugged. "Oh well then. Let's do it the hard way then." He took a threatening step forward. Mary couldn't move.
And then, as suddenly as Azazel himself had turned up, a small boy appeared behind him. Before Mary could call out another shot ripped through the air. Azazel froze mid step, tumbled and fell heavily on the floor.
For a second everything was quiet, but then the boy dropped the ancient gun from his shaking hands and ran straight into her. Mary folded over him, clutching him against her. "Dean." She sobbed. Dean lifted his head, eyes full of tears. "Thank you," Mary breathed, and then scooped him up and finally ran down the stairs.