The woman woke up to complete darkness, She tried to move her arms, but they felt stiff, as if from years of not being used. She tried to lean up but hit her head against a solid, slightly softened, wooden surface. She started squirming around and noticed that her entire body was surrounded by wood. It took a while for her to realize that she was buried alive. She tried not to panic; there was only a limited amount of air here, and hyperventilating would not help her.

"How is this possible?" she thought. "I was just spending time with my husband and sons."

She kept moving to get the stiffness out of her limbs. Once it was gone, she started to beat against the ceiling on the casket. Her hand when straight through the wood, making dirt fall directly on her face. Wiping the dirt from her face, she made the hole she created bigger so that she could get her body through it.

She kept digging through the dirt, trying her best to keep her airways clear. For what seemed like hours, she dug through what she knew to be six feet of dirt until reaching up, she felt nothing but a breeze. She had finally reached the surface. Giving herself one last push, she breathed in fresh air for the first time while shimmying out of the ground.

She looked around and saw row after row of headstones. Knowing she was in a cemetery, she looked toward the closest slab of stone, knowing that it would be her grave that she was buried into. It read:

Mary Winchester

1954-1983

Looking at the tombstone, she saw bursts of fire behind her eyelids. There is suddenly the memory of walking into her youngest son's nursery and being met with startling yellow eyes that she would never forget.

She had been dead. There should have been memories of her raising her children and being y her husband's side. Where there should have been memories, there was a blur, as if it was all a dream. She had been in heaven, she suspected, except it wasn't filled with angels with white wings and halos and fluffy clouds. Heaven was those precious moments with her family.

The first thing Mary thought to do was think of creatures that could reincarnate. After years of not paying attention or keeping up with the supernatural, she came up with nothing. There was absolutely nothing that she could think of that would bring her, a hunter (an ex-hunter to be exact) of all people back to life.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the movement behind the - her - tombstone. the sound of coughing filled the silent cemetery. She stood up slowly, knowing that there was nowhere she could get a weapon. She saw the body of a muscular man shaking from the coughs that were raking his body.

"Who are you?" Mary screamed at the man, keeping her voice firm, with what many would call the mom voice, not letting any of her fear come through.

The man didn't answer immediately. He was struggling to turn toward her. Once he succeeded, his squinted eyes widened in shock and confusion.

"Mary?" he asked, awe dripping out of his voice.

"How do you know who I am?" she asked.

The man did look familiar somehow. He had unruly brown hair with a scruffy beard. When Mary looked into his eyes, she knew exactly who he was. Those bright, although dulled from years of heartache, brown eyes she would recognize anywhere.

"John?" she asked him. A smile was the only response that she got back, the only response that she needed.

Mary ran toward him, falling to her knees in front of him, pulling him into a tight hug, which was returned.

"How long has it been?" she asked him.

"I lived twenty-three years without you," John answered.

"What do you mean 'I liven twenty-three years without you'?"

"It was for Dean, Mary... for Dean."

"What happened to my baby?" Mary asked him, hysteria leaking from her voice.

"It was the demon. He was dying, Mary. I couldn't let him die, so I made a deal. My life, for Dean's."

"But," she started, calming down once again, "demon deals give you ten years and the loss of your soul."

"How do you know about demon deals, Mary?

"My family were hunters, John. How do you know about demons?"

"The night you died, I felt - knew- that there was something wrong. You were stuck to the ceiling and suddenly flames came out of your body. So I investigated what happened and discovered the existence of supernatural beings. And, to answer your previous question, I gave up both my south and ten years. Now, why didn't you tell us about all this evil, supernatural crap even existed?"

"I never wanted to be a hunter, and when I fell in love with you, I thought it would be my way out of the life," Mary answered heartbrokenly. "I never talked about it because I never wanted my children, our children, to be in the life."

"So," John started, wanted to get off the subject of getting involved with the world of supernatural beings, "do you know any creatures that can bring people back to life? Mainly us, since we were hunters when we were alive before."

"I was thinking about the same thing before I realized that you were over here. I couldn't think of anything."

The phrase "like mother, like daughter" would have come to mind if Sam had been born a girl and named Samantha.

They stood up off the cemetery floor, slowly noticing that Mary was not in the clothes that she died in. Instead of the long white nightgown, she was wearing black, skinny jeans, an orange T-shirt, and some black boots. John was wearing the same blue canvas jacket and green tee he had died in. Knowing that they were wearing clothes that would help keep them inconspicuous for living in this time, he said nothing, but for Mary, it was a different story.

"Why am I wearing these clothes?" Mary asked him.

"I'm sure it's to not bring attention to ourselves."

"Then why are my pants this tight? This cannot be normal for people today."

"I... I really don't know. It's something that women wear nowadays."

That seemed to be a satisfactory answer for her. They started looking for an exit to the cemetery. Being caught there we a disturbed grave would lead to too many questions that would not have non-supernatural answers to them. Finding it, John started to lead Mary toward it, making sure that no one would spot them leaving.

Once on the outside, they started toward the main part of town. It looked so different than the last time he had been here in Lawrence. Last time, he was just following his sons around, making sure they were safe. The city was crowded, as any downtown area was in the summer. Coming across a newspaper stand, John decided to stop to check the date. Thursday, June 16, 2011, it read. Showing Mary the date, she became more worried about the time period she suddenly found herself in.

"How are we supposed to fit in, John?" Mary questioned him, quietly so no one else would be able to hear her. "I've been dead for twenty-eight years. Things have obviously changed."

"Not much had changed in twenty-three years," he replied with. "Hopefully not much has changed in the last five years."

"The only thing constant is change," she muttered.

John would have heard her if it wasn't for the fact that he was checking his person. "I had a wallet on me," he was thinking. He didn't 'remember the name he was under, but he had some type of ID on him. He just knew that he had. Finding it in his left jacket pocket, he pulled it out and handed it to Mary, which she opened and read.

"Elroy McGillicutty? This is the name you went with? And this picture doesn't even look like you?"

"What do you mean the picture doesn't look like me?" John asked her. He took the picture himself. There was no way it wasn't him.

"I guess it could look like you if you looked about ten years older, had white in your beard, and a scar on your forehead, but you have none of those things. Good thing you have cash because there is no way someone would accept your ID, and your credit cards are probably expired, and I'm hungry. Let's go see if the diner is still here."

Handing the wallet back to John, Mary started skipping down familiar streets to the diner that she was hoping was still there and looking the same so she wouldn't feel as much as an outcast. Pocketing the object back into his pocket, the ex-widower had to speed walk to catch up with his wife. With diner doors in sight, Mary stopped to do a tiny victory dance that included jumping up and down slightly. John grabbed her arm, finally catching up with her and dragging her inside.

The host in the front greeted them with a fake smile, clearly no wanting to be there, looking like a teenager whose parents forced her into a summer job. "Welcome. Will it just be the two of you today?"

"Yes," Mary answered, not put down by the terrible service.

"Follow me then," the host said, leading them to a booth in the back, despite the diner being practically empty.

As she left, Mary started to sit down, suddenly standing up as if she had sat on a tack. Reaching into her back pocket, she grasped what seemed to be a type of metal. She looked really happy as to what was in her hand as she brought it to her face as well as sitting back down.

"What is it?" John asked her.

"My bracelet," she said. "It's made out of silver."

"I remember it. I always wondered what the charms were of though."

They're anti-possession charms and the like," she told him, reaching her arm with the bracelet so that he would put it around her wrist.

As soon as it was clasped, a waiter came up to them and started asking them: "so do you know what you will be having this evening?"

"We would like two burgers, fries and chocolate shakes please?" Mary spoke up, more comfortable in her skin now that she had her bracelet, and didn't feel her skin burning.

The waiter looked toward John, seeing if this was what he wanted. He smiled and nodded toward the man. When the waiter left, Mary's face became more serious.

"What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we can't stay in town for long. What if someone notices me? I'm sure you also haven't been in town for a while and people are going to ask how you still look young. And I really would like to see our children... if they are still around."

"I'm sure they still are. I hope at least I taught them right."

"But we've been dead, John. How are they going to believe that it is really us?"

"There's always Bobby."

"Who?" Mary asked.

The conversation was slightly halted when the waiter came back with their food. With him leaving, it started back up between bites of food.

"Who is Bobby?" Mary asked again.

"Bobby's another hunter. He would help me sometimes in raising the boys. He also has this huge library with practically everything having to do with the supernatural. If anyone can prove that it is really us, it'd be him."

"Where does he live? I would love to meet him as soon as possible."

"Down in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Just nothin of here. It takes about seven hours by car, so we're going to have to hitch-hike."

"Whatever it takes," Mary said, smiling from ear to ear.

The rest of their dinner was filled with silence. Never once did the smile leave her face. John was smiling as well because he was finally with his wife after years of solitude, and as long as she was happy, he was happy.