"How's school?" John asked a seven-year-old Mary as they ate in a small diner just inside the city.

"Good," she smiled, mouth full of food. Taking another bite of her cheese burger she got ketchup all over her face. John couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

Every year for seven years John had come to visit his daughter, just as he promised. Mary was smart and she always had questions to ask her father. In only a few visits Mary had gotten John to talk about all three of her brothers and about hunting. Dean and Sam still had no idea about Mary. They also knew nothing about John's other son, Adam. Mary, however, had picture of all of them. Whether John could admit it or not, Mary had him wrapped around her little finger.

"Aunt Amelia said I'm the best reader she's ever seen," Mary continued, "and Uncle Joey said I'm smarter than he ever was."

John chuckled again, "I'm sure you are."

Mary gasped, "Do you have it?"

"Mary..."

"I wanna show you how I can read it on my own now," Mary insisted. When John visited she liked to look at his journal. Obviously some things she wasn't allowed to see, but John was open with her for the most part. Sometimes he would read the entries to her, sometimes she would just look at the drawings. Stories about her father's hunts were like fairy tales to her.

From inside his jacket, John pulled a leather bound journal. Mary's face dropped at the sight of it, "that's not it."

"No," John agreed, "Dean has mine."

"Oh..."

"This one is yours," John said, sliding it toward her.

"Mine?" she asked excitedly, trying to pull the book from his hands. He pulled it away from her.

"Now Mary, you must take care of this," John began, "don't ever show this to anyone. Like hunting, it's a big secret."

"I won't tell a soul," she smiled, thinking about the big responsibility he was giving her.

"And when you're older you should add to it," John finally gave the journal to Mary.

"Daddy, look!" Mary pointed out the window over his shoulder. John turned to see what she was looking at. Walking down the street and toward the diner was Sam and Dean. As quickly as he could, John threw some bills on the table and swept up Mary in his arms. She clutched her new journal tight to her chest as they ducked out the back of the diner.

"Daddy?" she asked confused, eyes tearing up, "I wanted to meet them."

John looked his daughter in the eye, but didn't hesitate when he said, "I know, sweetheart, you will. They don't know I'm here yet. I wanted to surprise them."

"Oh..." she said sadly, looking back at the diner.

"Let's get you home," John decided, heading back toward the street. Mary didn't argue as her father carried her back to his car.

They rode back to the foster home in silence. Mary still held the journal tight. Even at the young age of seven, Mary knew what her father was doing. He was lying to her. He didn't want his other kids to know about her. John slowed to a stop in front of the house. He helped the small girl climb out of the car, and then she quickly ran to the porch.

"Mary, wait!" John called after her. She stopped at the door but didn't turn to look at him. John jogged up to meet her. He dropped to his knees to look at her, "I'll see you again soon."

"You always say that," Mary whispered.

"This time I mean it," he tried.

"Okay," Mary nodded, not fully believing him.

"Goodbye, Mary," he offered a smile before standing, "I'll see you soon kid." Without another word he left Mary on the porch. John was surprisingly good at closing himself off from his daughter while still making her love him.

"Daddy!" she called after him when he had reached the front sidewalk. She ran toward him and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a big hug. John Winchester wasn't exactly known for giving hugs, even when it came to his daughter, so he was a bit taken back by his daughter running into his arms. She let go of him and he offered her a smile before climbing into his car and driving away.

That was the last time Mary saw her father.

As John drove away, Mary approached the house only a little disappointed that she didn't get to meet her older brothers. She looked down at her journal, vowing to take care of it forever.

That night Mary tucked the journal under her pillow for safe keeping as she slept. The house was quiet, and all that could be heard was the deep breathing of the children and the soft snore of Joe and Amelia Spires.

Early in the morning, before the sun had come up, Mary was jolted awake in a fit of coughs. She opened her eyes to a smoke filled room. She tried to stand from her bed but found the thickness of the smoke only grew worse. She got down on her hands and knees and silently prayed that help would come. Under her bed she spotted her old shoe box filled with the things she had collected from her father. She quickly took the box and threw her journal inside it before crawling toward the window.

When she got to the window she was met by another face and she jumped back in fear. The man wore a mask and motioned with his hands for Mary to back up. She shifted back, still clutching the shoe box tight. The masked man shattered the window and crawled through, stepping carelessly onto the broken glass. He lifted Mary up and crawled back through the window. It wasn't until she was being carried down the large ladder that she realized who the man was. She saw the red truck and knew he was there to protect her.

Mary looked back up to the room she once called hers. Through the broken window she could see flames swallowing up her belongings. As she watched the flames she saw a dark shadow pass by the window. The shadow came back and stood in the window looking down at Mary. Just as Mary was about to tell the fireman, the figure disappeared right before her eyes.

When they reached the ground, Mary was rushed to an ambulance and taken away from the home... for good.