Chapter 33
"So, that's everything," Dean said. They told the others everything that had happened, how they were hunters, how John had died, and how they themselves had died, multiple times. The hunters were left in shock as they absorbed the tsunami's worth of information that was given to them. They told of the apocalypse, and the parts they played in it.
Mary's face was pale, her shock evident. John raised their babies in the life. How could he? The blood froze in her veins, as her sons spoke of the horrors they endured in their lives. It wasn't what she wanted for them. She wanted them to live a normal life, away from monsters and Demons. Tears blurred her vision and she spoke through a tight voice.
"John, I need to talk to you," she said. Sam and Dean looked at each other, both sharing a look that said 'uh oh'.
John got to his feet and followed his wife outside. He was expecting this. Mary looked horrified and saddened when she heard how he raised their two children.
"Why?" Mary asked simply. "Why did you do this to them?"
"Mary, I can't change what I did. What I saw that night… I think I would've lost my mind if I didn't do something. I had to avenge you. My real fear was that something would come for them. After all, that Demon was over Sam's crib. Hell, I thought he wanted Dean too."
"If you hadn't involved them then nothing would have been after them!" Mary hissed at him.
"The Demon did want them, Mary," John replied. "Didn't you hear what Sam said about the army? If they weren't prepared…"
"My babies were raised as soldiers," Mary whispered.
"What else was I supposed to do Mare?" John sighed, defeated. "I'm sorry that it happened, but it happened…"
"I know John…" Mary bit her lip. "But the cheap motels, moving around, credit card scams. They never had a real home." John laughed humourlessly. "We were poor. I blew through our savings in the first year, and the kids' college funds in the next three. I did my best Mare and I know I've been a pretty fucking shitty father, but I needed to keep them safe from what's out there. It was the only way I knew how." He sighed as he put his hands on her shoulders.
"I wanted to give them their best shot. I knew what was out there. I couldn't just leave them defenceless."
"I understand. This just isn't what I wanted for them. Were they happy…?" Mary asked, trying to keep her calm. Because part of her still wanted to whoop his ass.
John frowned and rubbed his neck absently, looking out the window.
"We were Mom," Dean spoke from a short distance away as he approached. "Dad tried his best. We had a good time growing up." It was the nicest thing he'd said to or about John since he'd gotten back. John nodded his thanks to Dean out of Mary's line of sight. Dean nodded back, really not wanting to see his parents fight on their first night back together.
"Dean… I've missed so much. Sammy's first words, his first steps, your first day of school, graduations, proms, all of it," Mary began, wheels turning in her mind. "I should have been there for you."
"It wasn't your fault Mom," Dean smiled a little. "Blame Yellow Eyes."
"I'm glad the bastard is dead…." John grumbled. "I'm so proud of you boys."
"Thanks, Dad," Dean and Sam smiled slightly. It seemed the hatchet was buried. For now, anyway. The four adults could start acting like the family that each of them wanted to be. It could be a new start.
They drifted off to their own things after that, exploring the castle. John bowed out of the grand tour of the castle and headed back to the room. Sam declined due to needing to prepare for classes and trying to figure out where to put the hunters that had arrived.
So, Dean showed his mother around the castle solo. They walked around the various areas of the castle, showing her the currently empty Great Hall, the grounds. He spoke of everything they'd done in the past few months, about the changes in the Wizarding World. In truth, he was nervous to approach what he knew Mary really wanted to talk about. He and Sam.
"Oh, I could show you the Hippogriffs. There are these things that have heads like eagles and a back end like a horse, or the greenhouses, they have these giant plants-"
"Woah, slow down Dean." Mary interrupted, chuckling a little as she put her hand on his shoulder. "You keep looking at me like I'm going to explode," she was smiling softly as she spoke. "Breathe."
"Sorry," Dean replied sheepishly. "I just want to show you everything… and I'm afraid that any minute now, I'll wake up." He shrugs. "This will all be some… weird… acid trip I've been on. Fuck knows what else this world can do…"
"Which means we need to slow down and cherish all the moments." She touches his cheek.
"So, what now?" Dean asked.
"Tell me about yourself and Sam," Mary replied. They sat down on one of the stone benches overlooking the Black Lake and his bio ran through his head briefly.
"Ah, well… that's a long story."
"Just the basics then?" Mary smiled.
"Sam's the smart one. Got himself a full scholarship to Stanford. Pre-Law," Dean smiled. "I got my GED."
"You dropped out of school?" Mary looked at him.
"School wasn't for me," Dean shrugged. "And if you wanna get technical, Sam dropped out too. His girlfriend died in his final year when he left to help me with… something. It was the Demon that killed you." Dean frowned, wanting to change the subject. Mary seemed to pick up on that.
"What about you? Girlfriends? Prom?" Mary asked.
"Uh, well, we didn't exactly… Go to prom…" Dean said softly, smiling a little at his mother. Mary's lips twitched.
"Be that as it may, I still missed everything in your lives," Mary frowned. "I was thinking, You mentioned that memory thing… Do you think you and your brother could show me some?" Mary asked.
"Sure thing Mom," Dean shrugged. "Are you sure? Not all of it is pretty."
"I need to know," Mary answered at once, giving an expression that meant 'no arguments'. Dean saw where Sam got his bitch face from.
"Yes ma'am," Dean nodded. "Let's go."
Together they walked back toward the castle. They were quickly able to find Sam when Dean used what Mary found out to be a 'cell phone'. Sam met them in the Entrance Hall.
"Hey, Mom wants us to show her some memories," Dean explained.
"Really?" Sam asked. Mary nodded.
"Okay, sure Mom," he smiled a little back.
"I'm just gonna tell Dad where we're going," Dean said.
"Dinner just started. He's at the usual spot," Sam told him.
"Thanks." Dean walked into the Great Hall and toward the Head Table.
"Dad, you may wanna stay away from Mom for a while," Dean said casually, smirking.
"Why?" John asked in a confused voice, an eyebrow raising.
"Cause she's gonna be pissed at you when we show her these memories," Dean joked lightly, grabbing a chicken leg.
"What are you talking about, Dean?" John asked, looking at his son with more confusion than before.
"Mom asked if we could show her some childhood memories," Dean explained. John nodded, face paling a little.
"We'll stop her from doing any real damage," Dean said light-heartedly. John's mouth twitched.
"C'mon, we better go. I'd say your mom's excited," John said as he got up. They met up with Mary and Sam in the Entrance Hall and made their way to the Demonology classroom. Sam and Dean put their wands to their foreheads and pulled the memories out one by one.
"You ready?" Dean asked his mother. Mary nodded excitedly. The group moved to the Pensieve, dropping into the shining blue liquid.
John was walking around a motel room. He had a six-month-old Sam over his shoulder, rubbing the sobbing infant's back, trying to calm him down.
"Shhh Sammy," John said softly, bouncing him slightly in his arms.
Mary looked at the scene in concern, maternal instincts rising. Looking at the state of the dingy motel room and the half-eaten containers of food on the small table. She realized that this must have been just shortly after her death.
"Daddy?" a small voice sounded from the chair.
"Yeah, Dean?" John asked, smiling a little, although it was obvious it was fake.
"Daddy, where's Mommy?" the almost five-year-old said in a tiny voice, expressive green eyes lowered. John froze, his left hand supporting his youngest, and his right on the baby's back. He pulled his right hand away and rubbed it over his now moist eyes.
"Mommy, she's gone to Heaven, Deano," John said finally. Dean's eyes filled with tears as he looked up at his father.
"I want Mommy back," he sniffled. "Is she an Angel?" he asked. John didn't answer.
John put the sleeping baby down in the crib, and the memory blurred slightly, and the next image was Dean in the crib, arm around his baby brother, sucking his thumb as he slept.
Mary wiped her eyes of the tears she could feel falling. The memory blurred to once again show a ratty motel room.
"Come on Sammy," Dean was saying. Dean looked slightly older than Mary remembered, possibly around six. His hands were outstretched. John stood a few feet away, holding baby Sammy upright by his arms, letting the baby walk cautiously. Sam walked forward clumsily.
"You can do it, Sammy!" Dean grinned. Sam giggled. John let go of his hands, hovering in case Sam fell. Sam took another step and faltered, falling flat on his face before John could catch him. Sam lay still for a moment before letting out a wail.
"Shit," John muttered under his breath. "It's okay little dude…" He picked up the sobbing baby. "You're okay."
"See Sammy? You were always a clumsy giraffe," Dean grinned. Sam thumped him in the shoulder. The memory dissolved, revealing a bright September day.
John had a one-and-a-half-year-old Sam by the hand. The little boy looked up at his older brother as the sandy-haired child scowled.
"Daddy, I don't wanna go to school," he pouted.
"You have to, son," John said gently.
"But Daddy…" Dean bit his lip.
Mary noticed the difference. John was like the father she knew in the first memory, but John's voice had changed slightly. Only one year as a hunter had changed John, even a little.
"Who'll look after Sammy?" Dean whimpered. Looking up at the toddler who was grinning at him while waving a chubby hand at him.
"Sammy will be fine," John soothed, gently nudging Dean closer to the group of playing five-year-olds that would be in his class.
The memory faded to show a nine-year-old Dean, with his little brother playing with green army men on the disgusting puke green carpet.
Dean got up and looked at Sammy.
"Want dinner?" he asked. The mop of brown hair looked up to reveal innocent brown eyes.
"Pwease Dean," Sam said. Dean nodded and opened the cabinet, frowning. There was only one can of Spaghetti-O's left. He opened the can and poured it into a saucepan.
"Don't you want any Dean?" Sammy asked.
"Nah, I'm fine," Dean replied.
John looked away, horrified at seeing how he had left his son's alone from this angle.
The memory again faded as Mary gave a stern look to her husband.
"You didn't leave them with enough money?" she glared. "You shouldn't have left them alone in the first place!" John looked down.
The memory refocused, showing a fifteen-year-old Sam Winchester.
He was scowling, patches of his long hair in his hands.
"Dean! You put Nair in the shampoo?!" he yelled. Nineteen-year-old Dean Winchester was laughing his ass off.
"Dude, your face!" he choked out, holding his ribs. "Wait, did you take the bottle out with you?" he asked.
"Uh…" Sam trailed off. Dean's face paled.
"Dad's in the shower!" he exclaimed. Sam just about peed himself laughing.
"Dean Winchester!" a roar sounded from the bathroom. Dean gulped as John came out, hair falling from his scalp.
Both Dean and Sam were laughing their heads off. Mary stifled a giggle behind her hand at the image. They exited the Pensieve.
"You looked happy," Mary smiled, trying not to think of the first memory of their grief, and focus on the happier times.
"Yeah, told you," Dean smiled. "It wasn't all doom and gloom."
There were a few minutes of silence as John absorbed what had occurred in the last few days. His wife was back, his family complete. It didn't erase what he had done, the mistakes he had made. God knows there were a lot of those. He knew that now was time to start mending the wrongs. He was a fucked up human being. John knew there was probably no use in justifying the damage he had done to his sons.
John looked at his wife, talking to their sons. The love in her eyes was palpable. Mary was the type of person that loved with their whole heart.
He frowned as he realized how much better she was at the whole parenting thing than he was. I mean she had only been a mother for technically four years and was such a natural at this. He had been a father for twenty-seven years and look at how they had turned out. He sighed.
"Hey, Sam? Can I talk to you?" John asked. This was the first step, talking to his youngest. They had a rocky relationship, to begin with.
"Uh, sure Dad." Sam looked at his brother before he walked off with John. They walked a short distance away.
"What is it?" Sam asked. The words weren't snappy or harsh, like he'd spoken to his father for the past while, or even during his teen years. He had a lot of time to process everything that had happened since his father's death, and he had come to terms with what had happened. Even though he did lose his temper when John messed with his lesson plans. What could he say? Old habits die hard. Now there was a bit of awkwardness between the two of them that hadn't been there when Sam was younger. Now that he had the chance to fix their relationship, Sam was at a loss for words. But John spoke before he had a chance.
"Sam, I screwed up with you a lot, didn't I?" John sighed.
"No, that's okay," Sam shook his head. The response came out automatically, it was a knee-jerk reaction.
"No, it's not. Sammy, tell me the truth."
"I don't want to talk about that," Sam grimaced. He was trying to make up with his Dad, not rehash the past.
"You didn't have a problem talking about it before you left," John pointed out, trying not to sound too bitter.
Sam sighed, frustrated. "Dad… for me? That fight… that was a lifetime ago. I don't even remember what I said, and I mean… yeah. You know what? You did some messed-up things. But I don't… I mean, when I think about you…" his voice broke. "And I think about you a lot… I don't think about our — our fights. I think about you… I think about you on the floor of that hospital. And I think about how I never got to say goodbye." There were tears in Sam's eyes now. John put his hand on Sam's shoulder, looking into his eyes.
"Sam. Son. I am so sorry," he said sincerely.
"I'm sorry, too. But you did your best, dad. You… you fought for us, and you loved us, and… that's enough," Sam nodded.
⸸
It seemed to be a day filled with apologies for John. He took a deep breath as he prepared to knock on the door. He wasn't normally a nervous man. For God's sake, he'd faced creatures that would make grown men piss themselves over. He had been dreading this particular conversation for several reasons, but he needed to talk to her about it. It had to be done. He knocked. The door opened.
"John," Ellen said, arms crossed and appraising the hunter with a sceptical look on her face.
"Ellen," John looked down and then back up at her. "I need to talk to you."
"Wondered when you were gonna come and talk to me," Ellen said, raising an eyebrow.
"Come on, I don't want Jo to hear this," he said, causing Ellen to glare. She followed John down the steps, outside, and they ended up in the grounds.
"You know we're going to have to talk about it sooner or later Ellen," John sighed. "You know as well as I do that I haven't been in the roadhouse since…" he trailed off.
"Since you got my husband killed, I get it. Do you have a point here, Winchester?" Ellen snapped.
John sighed. "About what happened that night. Ellen, I have wished every day since it happened that I could change it, that the damn thing would have taken me instead." How could he make it up to Ellen? Just saying 'I'm sorry' wouldn't cover it. "I was a fool for not checking that salt line, if I had just done that, or if it had been me instead of Bill…"
"Shut up Winchester." Ellen had turned away from him, holding her arms across her chest and grabbing her arms, almost as if she was trying to hold herself together. She hadn't thought of Bill in years. She tried not to, because of what was happening now; feeling like she was falling to pieces. "I don't need your pity or your crap. Why do you want to drag this out now after all these years?"
"Because," John frowned, not really knowing what to say either. "I screwed up. Plus, I don't want any animosity between us. I don't know if you noticed, but earlier, Jo and Dean kissed. It looked like there's some sort of connection between them."
"Really?" Ellen drawled sarcastically. "I'm not blind John. If you had stuck around long enough you would have put a chastity belt on that boy."
"Oh, you wouldn't believe…" John rolled his eyes, seeing a smile touch Ellen's eyes.
"Look John… What happened to Bill was one of the darker sides of the job," she whispered. "Bill knew what he signed up for. You did a good thing that night John, whether you believe me or not. You stopped the hellspawn from being released into the world. 'The life of one for one billion.'" She smiled slightly; one of Bill's famous sayings. She turned away, leaving John stunned as she went back to her room. John sighed to himself.
Crowley's Hideout, Bootbock, Kansas, U.S.A. 22nd January 2012
Crowley summoned Castiel to an old circular metal laboratory. He was pacing back and forth in front of one of the old metal tables. He stopped when he heard the fluttering of Angel wings.
"What?" Castiel asked in a bored and tired voice. Crowley had so many 'jobs' for him to do lately with harvesting the souls that Crowley had promised Voldemort. He was feeling less like a partner and more like an errand boy.
"Touchy, touchy Feathers!" The King of Hell inspected the Angel from head to toe. "You should really think about doing something…." He gestured to every part of Castiel. "With that," he finished.
"What do you want? I still have some more souls to collect for your army." Castiel's eyes bored into Crowley ignoring what he said.
"Oh, it's not my army," Crowley mused. "I am merely the silent partner in this little game of 'War and Peace'."
"I don't understand." Castiel looked at him puzzled, the first real emotion that he had shown in a long time. Hadn't this been the deal that was struck between the three of them?
"Oh, you Angels, you can be so naïve." Crowley rolled his eyes. "This is the only bit of fun that I get to have while I'm topside here, watching two civilizations annihilate one another is what I live for! Don't you Angels get to have any fun?" Castiel just looked at him with that blank expression that he was known best for. "Well anyway, I have a job for you to do."
"What now?"
"I need you to get rid of the 'Winchester' problem."
"And by 'get rid' of you mean…?" Castiel narrowed his eyes.
"I need you to kill Dean Winchester, now. Since you didn't bother the last time I asked."
"Why? He is no threat to you." Castiel tried to hide his anger beneath his composed features.
"You know Castiel, I was pretty confident that Eve could lead us to Purgatory…" He shot Castiel a sharp look. Castiel hid his surprise that Crowley knew. Of course, he knew… "And I'm confident that she could have if she was still alive! Single best chance to get over the rainbow, and the Winchesters killed her!" he glared.
"Eve was becoming a threat," Castiel replied.
"You screwed up, Cas. You let the hounds mangle the pheasant, and now I am up to my elbows in it!" Crowley yelled. "Out of all the hunters that I've come across, he and his brother are the only ones who can stop me from opening Purgatory. This is your last chance Feathers." Crowley leaned in close and whispered threateningly. "If you don't kill him, I will."
"I will not let you hurt Dean," Castiel growled. Crowley smiled a little. Suddenly, a ring of fire ignited around Castiel.
"Thought you'd say that," Crowley said, and he disappeared, leaving Castiel alone, at a loss of what to do.
