Big thanks to sarahmichellegellarfan1, Sloane Raine, .Oujo.1967, bookwormultimate, and ncsupnatfan for reviewing the last chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
Song: Stealing Cinderella – Chuck Wicks
Chapter Ten
December 25th, 2013
Stillwater, Montana.
A small town set on a big piece of land. Mostly home to trees, elk, and bison. The population of the town numbers out to around seven hundred people. All the homes spread out of long stretches of roads, most of which are in need of repair. There's the main part of town, which is where the plaza is located, different shops of all kinds set up around an open wood-board floored area to attract the tourists who wander over from Yellowstone National Park. Most everyone lives between ten to twenty minutes from there, although some families live even further.
It's simple to tell apart those who are residents to those who are just passing through. There isn't anything glaringly different about the residents of the town, per say, just an air about them. They're proud of their small town, and everybody knows everybody.
And everybody knows the story of Marah Bradshaw. The sweet little girl who ran off ten years ago and was never seen again. Though they had heard she was alright, no one really knew for sure.
Her family still lives in town, in the same house they always had. Leroy still ran the store, Abigail still keeping the records. Their two oldest children came home often enough to visit. They got together on holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries, but it never felt the same as it used to. There was always that empty chair at the table, the extra plate, the empty room.
This Christmas is no different. The Bradshaws gather together to celebrate another Christmas. Abigail casts glances to the last picture of her youngest daughter she ever took multiple times each day, but she does it more on Christmas than any other.
But the family still laughs and smiles. They have a merry Christmas, just like all the other families in town who are gathered together. The streets and shops are all empty, windows closed and doors locked for the holiday.
So Dean can drive as slow as he wants to through town. The Impala rolling down the main road as Marah stares out the window, snow falling lightly on the black car. "Look Dean!" She says excitedly, pointing at a building outside. The building sits quietly, the lights off, toys sitting on the shelves. The sign that hangs looking outside reads 'closed'. The bold white writing engraved in the window reads 'Bradshaw General'. "That's the store!" she looks to her husband with a smile on her face. Dean chuckles softly, nodding his head.
"I can read the sign, babe." He tells her, and she slaps his shoulder, pouting.
"Shut up!" she doesn't mean it, and her hand finds his, giving it a squeeze. He knows she's nervous. She's excited too, thrilled really. The trip here had been Dean's idea.
Marah had seemed more closed off in the past few weeks, and when Dean finally kept pushing her on telling him what was wrong, she told him it would be ten years in a few weeks since she last had Christmas with her family. Over ten years already since she'd last seen them, spoken to them even.
Marah had felt terrible telling Dean this of course, knowing he would internally blame himself. "I love you, I've loved every damn moment with you Dean. And I wouldn't do anything differently. It's just…" she had trailed off, begging him with her eyes to understand.
"They're your family." He had finished for her, and she had only been able to nod, her chin trembling as she held back the tears.
So he had surprised her. They'd celebrated Christmas with Sam last night, and then Dean had taken Marah and Carter and hit the road early that morning. And now here they were, back where it all started.
Dean had the Impala stopped in front of the diner. It didn't look as good as it did all those years ago when Dean first walked through those glass doors. Even through the snow, they could see the paint was chipping slightly, the sign looked worn down.
"I almost didn't go in." Dean tells her, and when Marah looks at him Dean is starring at the diner. "I was just walking through since my dad and Sam had gotten into a fight. Didn't plan on sitting down."
"What made you sit down?" she asks softly. Dean looks down at her now, his arm wrapping around her and he pulls her closer into his side.
"There was a pretty little girl in an apron wiping down tables. Any place where the waitresses wear actual aprons has to be good." She lets out a laugh, and Dean shrugs. "I just had a feeling." He tells her honestly, then leans down to give her a kiss. She smiles against his lips, Dean taking her bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before letting go and pressing his lips against hers harder.
"Daddy!" the little boy in the back car seat interrupts them, and they pull apart, Dean turning in his seat to look back at Carter.
The boy had started talking just a month ago, and already had a growing vocabulary. His first word had been 'daddy' and Dean had been over the moon about it. Marah hadn't cared that Carter didn't say 'mommy' first, as long as Carter was talking, she was happy. The little boy had said 'mommy' just a week later anyways, and a modified version of Sam soon followed. 'Sim' was what Carter usually said.
"What is it buddy?" Dean asks, raising his eyebrows at the boy, who pouts at his parents from his car seat. He points down, behind Dean's seat, a little frown on his face.
"Cappy." Carter whines, pointing again.
"You drop'em?" Marah asks her son, twisting around and reaching her hand back where Dean cannot reach. Sure enough, her fingers meet the teddy bear's soft fur, and she picks up the toy. "Hold on to him." She advises as she hands the bear back to their son, who smiles widely at her.
"Cappy!" he cheers, and Dean shakes his head, shoulders shaking slightly in silent laughter. He never understood how his son came up with the name for the bear. He had just started saying it over and over again two weeks ago.
Sam had been the one to figure out what he was asking for. The boy nodding his head and reaching out for the toy expectantly when his uncle had asked if that was what the little boy was asking for.
"You ready?" Dean asks Marah as he shifts the Impala back into drive, taking her hand tightly in his. He gives it a squeeze when she looks at him with wide eyes. "Don't be nervous." He tells her, seeing it plain as day written all over her face.
"Don't be nervous?" She repeats incredulously. "How can I not be nervous? I haven't seen them in ten years!"
"I came back from the dead and you greeted me quite warmly." She huffs at him, resting her head on his shoulder, her long dark hair falling between them. "But really," Dean continues, serious this time, "it'll be fine."
The house looked the same.
Same brick walkway, same porch, same white siding, same white shutters, same front door. The driveway was the same, though Marah did not recognize two of the cars in the driveway, she could see the old red Ford in the back.
She had learned to drive in that truck. Gone on road trips with her family. Sat squished between Derek and Jackie for hours on end.
Her parents had put up Christmas lights, though they weren't on yet. It was only just past three.
They were probably still cooking for dinner, Marah thought, unless they had changed the Christmas tradition in the past decade.
Dean's hand squeezing hers brings her attention to him, and he smiles at his wife. "You ready?" he asks again, and Marah nods, swallowing the building lump in her throat. "Well then, let's go." She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and leaning forward, kissing Dean on the lips quickly. He catches her kiss, making it last a little bit longer before he pulls away.
"Now I'm ready." He chuckles at her, and Marah turns, opening the door and stepping out of the Impala and onto the shoveled sidewalk. The cold air nips at her skin instantly, and she pulls the leather jacket closer to herself, hearing the driver side door close as Dean gets out and goes to get Carter.
Marah's feet move on their own accord as she stares at the house, boot-clad feet crunching on the snow. One step at a time, closer to the house, and she can hear Dean whispering – explaining – to their son what was happening in a simple way that the boy would understand.
Her footsteps are hollow as she makes her way up the front steps, and then she raises a hand, curling her fingers into a fist. She hesitates, seeing the scars on her knuckles, and knowing the others that cover her body. She sighs, and then knocks, her knuckles rapping against the wooden door a few times before she lets her hand fall to her side.
"Comin'!" Her father's deep voice can be heard through the door, and tears prick at Marah's eyes. She had forgotten what his voice sounded like. She can hear laughter as well, through the walls, and can still recognize Derek's deep laughter. "A Mer-"
Her father looks almost the same. Still tall as a tower, his face exactly as it was before. His once black head of hair is now completely gray all over, and he's growing a slight beard as well. His brown eyes are wide, mouth opening and closing as he stares down at Marah. He takes in a shaky breath, his hand falling from the doorknob. "M-Marah?" his voice is a whisper and his voice cracks as his eyebrows rise, a tear rolling down his cheek, getting lost in the stubble on his jaw.
Her lips purse together as she fights off the tears, nodding her head. "Hi, Daddy." She can't speak louder than a whisper, but he hears her and in the next moment she's engulfed in his strong arms. If she had never gotten a bear hug from Sam, she would've said it felt like she was being crushed alive. But she knows hugs can be harder, and she hugs her father back fiercely, breathing in the smell of pipes and the store.
"Marah, Marah, Marah." He repeats her name over and over again, not letting her go.
"Leroy? Who is it?" Marah's mother calls out, and her father pulls away from her, his hands staying on her shoulders as he replies, not looking away from his baby girl.
"Come see! Everyone!" He looks her over, and she doesn't look away from his face as he sees the scars on her face, the leather jacket and biker boots she wears. Concern flashes through his eyes, then curiosity and pain.
"My God!" Marah looks over to see her mother, her hair a little lighter, and her face sporting some more wrinkles, but mostly the same. "My baby!" Abigail cries out, surprising Marah, because she was always a quiet woman, and she's folded into her mother's arms. Marah wraps her arms around her own mother, a few tears slipping down her face.
"Hi Mom." Marah smiles, and her Mom pulls back, running her hands over the sides of Marah's face, over her forehead, her chin.
"What happened to you?" the older woman asks, her thumb tracing a scar across Marah's cheek, following in down her neck and stopping when it disappears under her shirt. Her mother feels the leather of her daughter's jacket.
"I'm fine." Marah tells her, getting her mother's attention back. She looks behind her mother to see her siblings standing there. She barely recognizes Jackie.
Her sister is taller, taller than Marah and her blonde hair is cut short. Marah wouldn't have thought Jackie could have gotten prettier, but she has.
Derek looks the same as well. A few more wrinkles on his face, his hair kept buzzed short. A smile takes up his whole face.
"Who are you?" Her father's question gets Marah's attention, and she turns around, her mother holding fast to Marah's hand, afraid to let go in fear her youngest daughter will disappear before her very eyes.
Dean stands in the middle of the walkway, looking up at the family now gathered on the front porch. He holds Carter's little hands in his own, the little boy's feet planted firmly on top of Dean's boots. It's his new favorite game, having Dean or Sam help him walk 'like a big boy does' by standing on top of their feet.
Dean has snow on his leather jacket and in his short-kept hair, the beige Henley he has on underneath wet at the top of the collar from the snowflakes. His son has the same innocent expression on his face that his father does. Carter's green eyes locked onto the new people who surround his mother.
Marah's hand slips out of her mother's as she walks towards her own family. "Dad," She begins, looking back at her father and smiling, "Mom, this is Dean." Marah picks up Carter off of Dean's feet, balancing the little boy on her hip as they walk forwards, Dean extending his hand towards Leroy. "My husband." The color drains from her parents' faces. "And this is our son, Carter." Their eyes widen, eyebrows rising.
"Pleased to meet you, sir." Dean says, taking a page from Sam's book in being polite. Leroy slowly grasps Dean's hand in his own, shaking it firmly.
An hour later, Dean sits in the Bradshaw's living room on the couch. Marah by his side, and Carter in his grandmother's lap.
Leroy sits in his usual chair, and Jackie sits next to her mother. From the other side of Leroy, Derek glares at Dean, trying to place why the man looks so familiar to him.
"How old is he?" Abigail asks, looking up from her grandson, who stares up at Jackie with wide emerald eyes.
"Ten months." Dean answers, "He'll be one February tenth."
"Where was he born?" she asks next and Dean smiles.
"Lawrence, Kansas. Same as me."
"And you were there." Leroy states, "When Carter was born." Dean looks down, and Marah's lips set into a thin line. Dean doesn't answer, and the silence seems heavy in the room.
"Dean was on a business trip, unfortunately." Marah lies, and Dean squeezes her hand in thanks. "His brother was there though."
"What kinda business you in?" Derek asks now, and Dean looks up to meet the younger boy's glare. Dean can't blame the younger man for his rough tone, he did take his sister away.
"Mechanic." Dean tells him, the lie slipping off his tongue easily. "Shop has me travel a lot to help out others with the antiques." Marah nods.
"Cappy!" Carter suddenly says, surprising everyone. "Where Cappy?" The little boy looks to his parents.
"Cappy's in the car." Marah tells her son.
"Da 'pala?" the little boy asks, and she nods.
"Yes, in the Impala."
"Want me to go get him bud?" Dean asks his son, and the little boy smiles.
"Cappy!" is his way of saying 'yes' and Dean pushes himself up off the couch, excusing himself from the room to go get the teddy bear from his beloved car.
"Is he good to you, Marah?" Leroy asks as soon as Dean's out of the room, and Marah looks at him, her eyes wide.
"What?!" she asks, not understanding how anyone could ever think badly of Dean.
"Is he good to you?"
"Of-" Marah can't even finish her sentence, "He's the best man in the world." She says instead. "I love him. More than anything."
"You'd die for him?" he asks her, and Marah nods. She already has died for him once, Cas brought her back.
"Absolutely."
The rest of the evening goes smoothly, the only moment of tension when Marah and Dean do not pray before dinner with the rest of Marah's family. Abigail had looked pointedly at her daughter, who just shook her head, keeping her hands in her lap instead of holding her sister's hand to pray.
Marah and Dean didn't pray anymore, not to God at least. They didn't want to waste their time trying to talk to someone who wasn't listening.
Dean talks cars and guns with Leroy over dinner, telling the older man which weapons he prefers, and talking endlessly about the Impala. Marah tells her family about all the places she has gone to. Maine, California, the Grand Canyon, Boston. As the day goes on, the Bradshaws open Christmas gifts, Dean running out to the Impala again and coming back with three gifts of his own.
One for Marah. One for Carter from his parents. And one for Carter from Santa.
"Open it." Dean whispers to Marah as he hands the small box to her, the eyes of her parents on them as Derek and Jackie opened their own gifts.
"Dean, we said-"
"Screw that," he cuts her off, "Open it." Marah rolls her eyes, but rips away the wrapping paper all the same. She tosses the paper to the floor, revealing a small box, and she lifts the lid slowly.
"Dean." She breathes out when she sees it. A flat gray stone hangs from the silver chain necklace, the chinks lacing through the hole in the stone and then hanging down again, where a flat pendant hangs off. "It's beautiful."
"Read it." He urges her, and she picks up the flat pendant, seeing the words now.
"Satis nos semper." Marah reads aloud, and then Dean's hand flips over the pendant, and Marah smiles "Sortis oblitus." She looks up at Dean, who grins.
"It's made of silver and iron, so…" he trails off, knowing he can't say what the metals would do aloud.
"I love it." She leans forward, kissing him on the lips. Dean is the one to pull away. "I love you."
"You know Latin?" Jackie asks her younger sister, having heard her read what the pendent says and watching Dean put the necklace around Marah's neck, his cool fingers sending chills down her spin.
"Yes," Marah tells her family, who are all listening, her mother holding back tears from seeing her youngest daughter with her husband. "I'm fluent." She turns to look at Dean, "I have something for you."
"You just said," he grins and she smirks.
"I knew you wouldn't listen." Dean scoffs, looking to Abigail.
"Has she always had trust issues, because she never believes me." The older woman laughs, shaking her head as Marah gets up. "Can he open this one?" Dean asks, still sitting on the floor and holding up the present from Santa they got for their son.
"Yes." Marah tells him, and Abigail holds up the camera, snapping a picture as Dean hands his son the gift.
"You gotta rip off the paper, that's the best part." He talks Carter through it, guiding his little hands to rip the wrapping paper. He gets the hang of it, and soon there's just the box. "See, buddy, we got you a box!" Dean says with fake enthusiasm. "Awesome! Right?" Carter picks up the box, shaking it up and down.
"Daddy!" He says, looking pointedly at the box, shaking it again to show there's something inside.
"Okay, so it's not empty. Come on, like this." Dean coaxes his son to put the box down on the floor, Marah rejoining them with a present in her hands, as Dean helps Carter open the top. "Woah, bud, what'cha got?"
Carter laughs, pulling out the navy blue blanket and clutching it close to his chest. A second later, he's putting the corner of it into his mouth. "No, no, no." Marah sighs, pulling the blanket out of his mouth. "You can't eat it." The boy pouts, but keeps it out of his mouth all the same. "Santa wouldn't like you getting drool all over it." Carter just clutches the blanket closer to himself, smiling.
Her parents managed to convince them to stay the night. It would be no big deal. There was the guest room; they could sleep in there. They had just gotten their little girl back, to find she was a fine young woman. Those were only a few reasons they gave.
They couldn't bear to let her go so soon. So Dean and Marah agreed to spend the night, calling Sam to tell him they'd be back the next day. He understood, saying he hoped it all went well.
Most of the household was asleep now. Jackie had gone back to her hotel she was staying at, Derek was asleep in the other guest room. Marah was asleep as well; curled up underneath the sheets, her right hand in the empty space that Dean had occupied minutes before.
But Carter had started crying, and Dean had volunteered to take care of him. He held his little boy in his arms in the living room now, slowly walking around the room, looking at each picture that lined the mantle and the walls. Dean had turned two of the lamps on when he came downstairs, just so he wouldn't trip over anything.
His eyes starred at a six-year-old Marah. Her dark hair up in a ponytail, flying up behind her as she ran across the front lawn. There was a sprinkler on in the background, and a Popsicle in Marah's hand. A younger Derek ran behind her.
Her face was full in the picture, still cute, though the baby fat had yet to disappear.
Another picture, and Marah was older in it. Fifteen, maybe? She was wearing a purple dress, her hair braided and pinned atop her head. She was smiling up at her father, who had a full head of black hair then, and was wearing a suit. She looked more like Dean's Marah, and he realized that in just two years after that photo, she would meet Dean for the first time.
In another photo, Marah stood with her siblings. She looked to be eighteen there. Dean recognized her easily; he had seen her like that with his own eyes. He recognized the oversized sweatshirt she wore as his own.
"Mommy." Comes the little voice from Dean's arms, and he looks down at Carter.
"Mommy's sleeping." Dean whispers. "Go to sleep buddy."
"Mmmm." The little boy whines, "Mommy."
"She's fine." Dean assures the boy. He squirms slightly in Dean's arms, so Dean starts to rub the little boy's back. Humming at first, and then letting the words come out as he rocks slightly back and forth. "Hey, Jude. Don't make it bad." Dean sings softly, his voice deep and rumbling as he continues looking at the pictures of Marah.
"Take a sad song, and make it better." She was riding a bike down the sidewalk, her father running alongside her to catch her if she fell over. "Remember to let her into your heart." She was bouncing on a bed with her sister, a pillow being thrown between the two of them. "And then you can start." The whole family together, minus their father, stood in front of a giant tree, a dog lying at their feet. "To make it better."
Dean keeps swaying his body back and forth, running his hand up and down Carter's back as he sings to his son. "Hey, Jude. Don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her." Dean feels a little hand clutch to his bare shoulder, Carter's head lolling slightly as he fights to stay awake in his father's arms. "The minute you let her under your skin."
He thought back to that night in the motel room. When he tried to say goodbye to her. The tears that ran down her face. "Then you begin to make it better. And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders."
Dean feels Carter's hand go limp, and he knows the little boy has fallen asleep in his arms. "For well you know that it's a fool, who plays it cool. By making his world a little colder." Dean hums melody, still swaying back and forth gently as he looks at the pictures.
The sound of footsteps make Dean look over a few moments later, and he sees Leroy standing in the doorway. The gray-haired man watching this stranger hold his grandson. Leroy sees the scars that cover Dean's torso, the satanic-looking tattoo on the man's chest.
"It was you, wasn't it?" Leroy asks softly, so he doesn't wake Carter. "All those years ago. On the phone." He clarifies.
"Yes, sir." Dean nods, and Leroy nods as well.
"I thought so. And I don't believe you, about you being a mechanic." Dean's eyebrows rise, and Leroy inclines his head towards Dean, "You've got too many scars on you." He tells him, "And you've got that look in your eyes. You and my daughter both do. You've seen horrible things."
"With all respect sir, you don't wanna know what I do."
"Damn right, I don't." Leroy and Dean are closer to each other now, and Leroy picks up a picture of Marah from when she was about eighteen. "My little girl ain't a little girl anymore. She's a woman, and the way she looks at you, son." Leroy shakes his head, "It's like you hung the stars in the sky just for her." Dean doesn't know what to say, and just as he figures he should say 'thank you' or something like that, Abigail appears at the bottom of the stairs.
"Something's wrong with Marah." She says in a panic, and Dean's handing his son over to Leroy a second later.
"Hold him." He says tersely, pushing Abigail aside and bounding up the stairs two at a time. Marah's scream echoes through the house as he reaches the top of the stairs.
Dean quickly makes his way into the guest room. Derek is trying to shake Marah awake as she lashes around, letting out another scream. "Stop! Get away from her!" Dean yells, shoving Derek back. The younger boy glares, fire in his eyes as he watches his baby sister tremble.
She's covered in sweat, her face drawn up in pain as Dean sits gently behind her. He winds his arms around her, getting elbowed in the stomach once, but he ignores the pain. Holding her close to his chest and running a hand over her head.
"Shhhhh." He soothes gently, vaguely aware of the family that watches them from the doorway. She screams again, and Dean brings her face into his chest. "Baby, wake up." He coaxes. "You gotta wake up." Her screaming stops, but she trembles in his arms, still sweating and breathing heavily. "It's over. You're safe, you're with me." She's not awake yet, he can tell, and Dean runs his hand over her hair again. "Wake up."
And she does, with a sharp intake of breath being the only tell. "Dean." She breathes, her grip on him only tightening a little bit.
"Right here."
Slowly her breathing evens out and Marah looks up. Her eyes widen when she sees her family there. Carter sits in her father's arms, the little boy now awake again, but silent. He knows to be quiet after one of his parents wake up screaming. He rubs his eyes with a tiny fist.
Marah's whole family stares at her and Dean with wide, scared eyes. "I'm sorry." Marah apologizes, and then buries her face in Dean's chest, embarrassed that her whole family is watching her suffer through the aftermath of the nightmare.
"Could we," Dean isn't sure how to ask them to leave, but he looks to Leroy, "He should be good to be put back in his crib." Leroy just nods, slowly walking forwards and putting the boy back on the soft blankets. He latches onto the blanket he was given earlier, and his grandfather backs away. "Goodnight." Dean's dismissing them, his arms still wrapped around Marah, holding the thirty year old to his chest as her shaking gets less drastic.
Her family slowly files out, and Dean turns his full attention to Marah. Abigail and Derek watch from the doorway as Dean lifts Marah's chin, whispering something to her that she nods to afterwards. He leans forwards, pressing a kiss to her forehead before whispering something else, and she laughs softly, her head tilting forwards so her forehead rests against Dean's.
"Let's go." Abigail whispers to her son, as she backs away, closing the door to the guest room silently.
The next day, the family stands out on the porch. Marah hugs her sister one last time, as Dean shakes hands with Leroy, Carter balanced on his father's hip.
"You take good care of my daughter and grandson." Leroy tells Dean in his gruff voice, narrowing his eyes at the young man.
"Yes, sir." Dean nods seriously.
"When will you be back?" Jackie asks her younger sibling. Marah's brow furrows at the question, and she glances over at Dean.
"I don't know." She says truthfully, but then smiles, "You better be married to Jack by then though, he sounds awesome." Marah teases, referring to the boyfriend her sister had gushed about at dinner.
"You'll have to come to the wedding if we do." Jackie half-jokes back, and Marah nods.
"Of course, I'll be there. Dean too, and Carter and Sam."
"We're inviting gigantor to something?" Dean asks sarcastically and Marah punches his free arm. "That hurt!" Laughter echoes off the porch, and then they are saying their final goodbyes.
Marah hugs her mother and father, who struggle to let go. Dean shakes Derek's hand; the man has softened up a bit to Dean after seeing him comfort his sister the night prior. Carter gives everyone a hug as well, a smile on the boy's face the whole time.
And then they all pile into the Impala, Dean strapping Carter into his car seat. Marah waves out the window as they pull away, watching her family shrink further and further away in the rearview mirror.
Dean's hand finds hers, squeezing it tightly. Brown eyes lift up to meet green for a split second. Marah's heart swells, and though she knows her life is hard, this life is what she needs.
A life saving others. A life in the Impala. A life with Dean Winchester by her side.
That's all folks! I should have the epilogue up in a few days.
Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story it means a lot to me! Hope you all liked this ending!