Dean awoke to the smell of bacon sizzling in a frying pan. He sat up quickly and looked around, a slight crick in his neck protesting at the movement, to see Sam standing over the stove, cooking.
The older hunter couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face as connections were made in his groggy mind. "You're still here?"
Sam turned around, smiling. "Told you I wouldn't leave, kiddo."
Dean's grin faded a bit. "Kiddo?"
"It's a term of affection."
"Yeah. I know. It's just… I can't remember you ever calling me that before, mom."
She turned back to their breakfast. "Thought I'd try something new. Would you prefer a different nickname?"
"No, it's fine. I guess I'm just surprised to see you here. Thought you had to leave."
"Got an extension."
"How long?" he asked, scooting to the edge of his bed and trying to keep any sounds of hopeful longing from his voice.
She shrugged. "As long as you'll have me."
"The whole year?"
"What's left of it." Mary turned back toward him, two plates of bacon in her hands. "You want toast?"
"No, thanks," he said, again unable to keep from smiling. His final year on earth and he wouldn't have to spend it alone. He would get to spend it with someone who loved him, who would take care of him, who cared about how he felt and wouldn't laugh or walk away, no matter what. It seemed too good to be true. "You're really gonna stay?"
"Unless you want me to leave, son."
"No. I just, um, what about Sammy?"
"What about him?"
"Well, no offense, but you're-"
"Using him as my meat puppet?"
Dean blinked. "Uh, yeah."
"Don't worry," she smiled, sitting down at the kitchen table and nodding toward the chair that sat across from her, "he's fine with it. Really enjoying the quality time."
"I'll bet," Dean muttered, sitting down at the table and staring at his breakfast. Something was different in the room. It was chillier than it had been the night before, not as homey.
"So," Mary said, startling Dean from his thoughts, "what should we do today?"
Dean shrugged, shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth. "Dunno."
"Well, there's got to be something you want to do."
"We could watch TV," he suggested, "I hear the CW's got a new show about a farmer looking for a wife. It replaced that one about the ghost-busting valley girl and her British friend."
"You watched a show about hunters?"
"Sam did. Back when there were guys on it. Sometimes I wonder about him."
Mary nodded slowly, watching him eat. "Anything else on?"
"Sexed-up doctors or soap opera-y crime scene investigators."
"Sounds riveting."
Dean smirked. "What can I say, it's Thursday. We could go see a movie. There's one about a painter that's gaining a solid following on the web. Something about the star."
"Maybe we could just stay here and talk," she offered, "I'd like to know more about this deal you made."
"There's really nothing to know. I sold my soul to save my brother."
"Yes," she said, looking back down at her plate, "but what if you change your mind?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you try to weasel out of your bargain, what happens?"
"Sam dies."
Mary glanced at him. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"I can see how that would be a problem."
Dean nodded, finishing off his breakfast. "Backing out really isn't an option," he said, "there's no way around it."
Mary nodded, pushing her own plate towards the center of the table. "Of course. At least you'll get one good year out of it, though, right?"
Dean nodded absently, licking grease off his fingers. There was something off about her tone of voice, but he was too happy to really pay attention.
o0o0o0o0o
"I've got it!"
Dean jumped at the sound of the voice. He'd been flipping through the grainy channels on the television, really not paying attention to what his mother was doing, so the sudden outburst took him by surprise. "Got what?"
"I know how to save your soul," she said, smiling widely as she turned from the sink, where she'd been busy washing the breakfast dishes, to look at him.
"Ok. How?"
She crossed the room and sat down beside him on the bed, still smiling. "Meg."
"What about Meg?"
"She fell out of a seventh storey window and didn't die," Mary clarified, "the demon's spirit was keeping her body alive."
"So?"
"So," she gushed excitedly, "as long as I'm here, you don't have to be alone. That's what you're really scared of, right? That's why you made the deal."
"I'm not gonna kill Sam."
"You won't be killing him," she explained, taking his hand, "not as long as I'm here."
Dean pulled his hand away, startled. The day before, his mother's touch had been warm and welcoming, inviting, reminding him of home. Today was different. It was cold and clammy and sent an icy chill up his spine. "What exactly are you talking about?"
"You welch out of this deal, and we can be together as long as you want. Honey, we can be a family again."
"You'd let your own son die?"
"I'm not going to let you burn for eternity, Dean. You can be happy."
"But Sam-"
"Think of someone other than Sam for once," she snapped, eyes flashing angrily, "think of yourself, of what you could have." She reached out and touched his face, eliciting a shudder. "We can be together, just like you wished."
He leaned away from her cold touch, pulling back, his mind reeling. She wanted him to back down, to weasel or welch his way out. She wanted him to…
It hit him suddenly, realization twisting his gut, making his skin crawl, making him feel used. He'd been wrong. Wishes never came true, no matter how badly you wanted them to. He'd made a mistake, a terrible, possibly deadly mistake.
"I-I'll think about it," he stammered, looking down at the floor, unable to meet Sam's eyes, fearing that he would see the truth flashing red there. "I'm kind of getting hungry for lunch. How about Chinese?"
"We're talking about the fate of your immortal soul and all you can think about is sweet and sour chicken?"
"I'm a guy," he shrugged, still staring at the carpet.
"Fine. We'll go eat Chinese."
"Actually, I was hoping you could go pick it up. It's so much better in those little take-out containers."
Her eyes narrowed and she placed a large hand under his chin, tilting his head up so she could look him in the eyes. "You ok, kiddo?"
Dean nodded weakly, forcing a smile. "Just thinking."
"Well, don't think too hard," she cautioned, letting go of his head and standing up, "you'll hurt yourself."
His smile faded as she walked out the door and the room began to warm up. He knew what he had to do, and there wasn't much time.