AN: Again, a heartfelt thank you for the great reviews. NerdAngel and LilyBolt... you made my day! This here is from "The Song Remains The Same". Enjoy, and remember... just add salt ;)

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Mary POV

I'm busy pouring out oil. Holy oil. Which is something I hadn't known existed before today. Then again I also had no idea angels existed. Every time this - admittedly - handsome yet strange hunter named Dean shows up, weird things happen. Hearing a noise, I look up. Speak of the devil, Dean is here. And he owes me an explanation.

"Okay. You said you'd explain everything when we had a minute. We have a minute. Why does an angel want me dead?"

Dean scoffs and looks around the room, trying to find something else to settle on than me. Finally he looks at me.

"'Cause they're dicks."

I can't help myself but laugh at this blatantly obvious attempt to get out of a real answer. Not with me, buddy. I might be a girl, but I sure am no push over. Try harder, Dean.

"Not good enough. I didn't even know they existed, and now I'm a target?"

Dean fidgets around and I can't shake the feeling he's hiding a majorly important piece of information. But why? We're hunters. Why does he come here to save me and John from a celestial being I didn't even know existed and then he withholds vital information. It didn't make sense and didn't really improve my trust in the boy.

"It's complicated."

Oh, is that so? I wouldn't have guessed. For all the inexplicable attraction towards Dean, which was of a completely different nature than my attraction to John, more like a feeling of relatedness, he honestly started to frustrate me.

"Fine." I get up in a challenging manner and glare at him provocatively. "All ears."

Dean looks at me and sighs, fidgeting uncomfortably. I don't get him. I don't get his dilemma, because he obviously is experiencing an inner conflict about this matter. Not a good way to reassure me.

"You're just gonna have to trust me, okay?" It sounds like a plea, but I'm not in the mood anymore. Good looks or not, trust isn't issued on that. I finally want to know what game we're playing. My frustration creeps into my voice.

"I've been trusting you all day." My gaze dares him to cough it up.

"It's kind of hard to believe."

Oh this man is infuriating. All his vexed puppy eyes look be screwed. I'm done. I won't fall for this crap. He can fight his stupid angels alone for all I care.

"All right, then. I'm walking out the door." I turn on my heels with the full intention to go through with my threat, but what he says next makes my world freeze solid.

"I'm your son."

He's gotta be kidding! There's no way in... hell? How would that be possible? If this is a joke, he'll regret the day he was born when I'm done with him.

"What?"

"I'm your son. Sorry. I don't know how else to say it. We're from the year two thousand and ten. An angel zapped us back here. Not the one that attacked you, friendlier."

I start shaking my head in disbelief. It can't be. It's too fantastic. He has to be joking!

"You can't expect me to believe that."

His gaze bores into mine and in that moment I know he's anything but joking.

"Our names are Dean and Sam Winchester. We're named after your parents. When I would get sick, you would make me tomato-rice soup, because that's what your mom made you. And instead of a lullaby, you would sing "Hey Jude", 'cause that's your favorite Beatles song."

How... how does he know that unless he speaks the truth? I can feel a tear running down my cheek, hot, wet.

"I...I don't believe it. No."

His reply is soft, sympathetic, loving even.

"I'm sorry, but it's true."

Yes, I get that now, but it still blows my mind. I look at him and see a man that is so right and yet so wrong. A great young man, anything a mother could ask for... and a hunter. A HUNTER! I can't believe I raised my kids into the life I never wanted, that I tried to escape from. Did I really? I have to know.

"I raised my kids to be hunters?"

Dean looks like a deer in the headlights for a brief moment. His words almost trip over another when he hastens to explain.

"No. No, you didn't."

I didn't? Don't tell me that, Dean. You're a hunter. Sam is a hunter. John has no idea what a hunter is, so who if not I raised you to be a hunter? Don't try to protect me, Dean.

"How could I do that to you?"

He takes a deep breath, the pain in his green eyes reaching another level. When he replies, his voice is barely more than a whisper.

"You didn't do it. Because you're dead."