Author's Note: Hey guys! So this story wouldn't leave me alone until I added another chapter. So here you go! I hope you enjoy it!

Rowena returned three hours later in a slightly better mood. A spontaneous date had gone exceedingly well and he had agreed to meet with her. The happiness was almost enough to take her mind off of her son.

Almost.

She felt the urge to call him, and did so, but he didn't answer her. Typical. So she went on with her day. That evening she went to bed, still without having heard from her son. As she slipped into unconsciousness, she wondered if he could ever give her another chance.

Her dream that night was vivid.

She was back in the Winchester's bunker, chained up as she read the book of the damned. She had just realized that she had to kill something she loved. But instead of Oskar showing up, the newborn image of Fergus was suddenly squalling loudly in her arms. She looked up at Sam.

"What is the meaning of this?" She asked.

"You have to kill something you love." Said Sam.

"But I don't love him!" She insisted loudly.

Sam handed her a knife. "Then prove it."

She grabbed the knife by the handle. She held it up over the baby's head, hand shaking wildly. In that same instant, Fergus' eyes opened, revealing teary baby blues. He stared up at her with a gaze so innocent and trusting that it made her freeze. In that moment, everything became clear. He was innocent. She had blamed him for things that were her fault. She had taken an innocent, trusting child and turned him into a monster. Guilt washed over her like surf. She dropped the knife onto the floor.

"I can't!" She said, eyes brimming with unshed tears. The cry was a cathartic release. She had finally admitted that she couldn't kill her child.

Then, abruptly, the spark of love inside of her began to glow fiercely. This was her chance. The chance to be the mother she had never been by embracing the spark instead of running away from it. She clutched Fergus to her torso, letting his head rest on her shoulder. She knew instinctively that she had to get him out of there- now. But the iron chains were restricting her magic. How could she keep him safe without her magic? Her mind was reeling as she tried to formulate a plan. She grabbed the knife from off of the floor and began to try desperately to get herself out from her shackles. It made an awful racket, but she paid no attention to the noise. She was too focused to care. When someone tried to interfere, she swiped at them with the knife.

Finally, she managed to crack one off her hand. With the bit of power gained from having her hand free, she got the shackle off. Then, she started running, clutching her son tightly to her chest and murmuring words of comfort to him. She almost made it to the door when suddenly she was hit from behind overhead. It wasn't enough to knock her out, but it was enough to subdue her. Suddenly, Fergus was out of her arms, shrieking and crying loudly. She reached for him weakly. Sam carried him over to the table, grabbing the knife she dropped somewhere along the way, and then went over to her. He forced the knife into her hand and made her clutch it, then, when she was too bewildered to fight back, made her slice into her child. With a horrified shriek, she watched her son bleed out and die of exsanguination.

Rowena woke up crying in a cold sweat, clutching her chest as she struggled to regain her composure. That was the most horrifying thing she had ever witnessed, real or imagined. Her hand almost automatically went to her phone, and she wanted to call her son again. She tried to strangle the urge, telling herself that it wouldn't do any good, that he wouldn't even answer, but the urge kept on pushing. The words "call him" glowed in her mind like neon. Finally, she decided that she was going to lose the battle against herself anyways, so she might as well give in.

She dialed the familiar number, sighed, and waited.

"Hello, Mummy."

The sound didn't come from her phone, but from next to her. She jerked away in surprise and put a hand on her chest, trying to calm down.

"Fergus, you gave me a fright! You can't be doing that to me! I may look twenty but I'm over three hundred years old, and my poor heart can't take it!"

"Then I'll be sure to do it again. Now then, onto business. You rang?"

"I did."

"And?"

She swallowed convulsively. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't come up with a fake reason to call. She hadn't thought this through well at all. At this point the only option she had was telling the truth.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright." She said quietly.

He was about to make a sarcastic remark when his eyes finally adjusted to the lighting in the room and he saw the tracks of her tears on her face. Any thought he might have had about this being a trick was shattered instantly. His mother never cried. Not ever. As much as it pained him to admit it, he was a little worried about her.

"I'm fine." He said in a clipped tone. "Why did you think I wasn't?"

"Nothing... it doesn't matter now."

Crowley stepped forward. "I think it does. And I think you're lying to me about something. Wouldn't be the first time and I'm certain it won't be the last. Why don't you just come out with it? You know I'll find out anyway."

"Don't be calling me a liar, Fergus."

"For the hundredth time, my name is Crowley, mum!"

"Fergus is the name I gave you and I will call you by that name wether you like it or not!"

"So then I can give you whatever name I choose then? Call you a ginger whore whenever I please? Hmmm?"

"Don't talk to me that way, I am your mother and You need to respect that!"

"You have never been my mother!" Crowley shouted angrily. "You never took care of me! You never showed me any love! You abandoned me when I was eight and tried to trade me for pigs! You may have given me life but you were never my mother!"

The silence that followed the outburst was heavy and awkward. Rowena felt her walls breaking down. The nightmare was still fresh in her mind, and her son's outburst just accentuated the point. She put a hand over her eyes, and whispered quietly,

"I know..."

The admission startled Crowley into silence. The next words out of her mouth were three he never thought he'd hear from his mother in his lifetime.

"...And I'm sorry."

Crowley stared at her for a minute.

"You're playing me like a violin, aren't you?" He asked curtly.

"...I wish I was. I wish I could tell you that it was all a joke or a lie. But this is real. Too real. And I'm terrified because it is." She was quiet for a minute, trying to gather her thoughts. "When you were a wee bairn, and I held you for the first time, I looked at you, and I... I... loved... you. Instantly. It was something I still can't explain to this day. But I knew what kind of danger I was putting you in by keeping you. I told myself that I had to hate you to keep you safe. I told myself that I hated you because of your father, because I had you at all, and because I needed to hate you to survive. Because if I loved you, someone could use you against me, and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it. So I tried to get rid of you to get you away and out of danger, but I was selfish and couldn't let you go. Until I was forced to when you were eight. I couldn't tell you goodbye. I was afraid if I did then I would start to love you, and put you at risk again. You were only a lad at the time, after all. But every night before I went to bed, I wondered what happened to you. I wished that things could have been different. That I could have been better. I can't take back my decision... But I wish I could. I've done a lot of thinking in the past day, and I realize now that I was wrong. You deserved a better mother than me. I was selfish, uncaring, and cruel. I wanted love all my life, and when you came along I couldn't see that I was destroying the purest love I had ever had. All I can do now is say I'm sorry and hope that you can forgive me someday."

Her words kept him quiet for a long time before he spoke again.

"Pretty words, mum. Too bad I don't believe a word of that rubbish."

"Think whatever you want, Fergus. But it's the truth."

"Maybe to you."

Rowena felt irritation flare up in her, and unconsciously started back into her old ways of communication. "You've made your point now. You may leave at anytime."

"Gladly." He said with a small smirk. With not even a puff of smoke to send him off, Crowley returned to hell, leaving Rowena alone to her thoughts.