What's to stop us

Ben Roberts could hardly believe it had taken him six months to track his niece down. Wasn't it just yesterday she'd been a quiet, cheerful golden-haired little girl who loved stories and hung on her cousin's every word?

His son Mark had laughed at that. "Get over it, Dad," he'd said. "And get over it quick. You were gone a good while before Mary took off, and she's changed. Gotten stronger, for one thing."

Mark had been right, it turned out. The little girl had mostly died with her parents, but Ben didn't even see the lost, hurting teenager in the young woman before him. Mary carried herself with a new self-confidence, hair loose around her shoulders for a change. She'd picked up a suntan, and she moved differently too, quicker, more coordinated, more… graceful. Mouth quirked in a hesitant smile, but her hazel-green eyes were bright as ever.

Ned's eyes. Mark had been right; he shouldn't have left for Canada when he did.

"Uncle Ben." Nothing hesitant about the hug she gave him. He could feel firm muscle under her skin when he gripped her arms, held her back to study her closely. She'd always been cheeky, but this Mary had attitude. Pain in her eyes, horror mostly buried, deep under a layer of pure… contentment.

Then Ben looked up, and saw the cause of that last. John Winchester. Bit over six feet tall, broad but quick-looking, black hair and deep, dark brown eyes. Biker boots, scruffy jeans, a sweater under the heavy black leather jacket. Intense-looking, like he was the sort of guy to throw himself wholeheartedly into whatever he took on.

It took a moment before Ben realised the boy was studying him right back.

"John, this is my uncle Ben," Mary said. "Ben, John Winchester." She bit the left corner of her bottom lip as they shook hands.

"John," Ben greeted him. "Dan Elkins has been singing your praises."

John grinned. "Dan's been singing full stop, or you wouldn't be here, as I understand it," he said in a deep Midwestern drawl, and then smiled more fully when Mary scowled at him. Ben sensed the remark had been more for her than him. Had they fought about coming to see him? He felt a bit offended.

Mary could see it. She always had read him with the same ease Ned had. "I didn't think you'd approve, and I don't want to fight about it," she said.

"Instead of which you let me find out from Bill Harvelle that Abe's been killed, and you've disappeared, and not even Mark has seen you for months," Ben said sharply.

Beside him, John tensed.

Mary just sighed. "You can't do anything about this," she said.

"Try me. You're my niece."

"I've been marked by a demon thousands of years old that wants me to destroy humankind," Mary snapped. "And you think you can fix this?"

Ben drew a deep, calming breath. "John, will you give us a minute?"

"Sure," John said slowly, eyes on Mary, not Ben. "I'll… be in the parking lot."

Was that sarcasm? Arrogant pup.

The diner door closed behind him with the same tinkle diner doors across the world open and close with.

Mary sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

"He's been… marked, as well?" Ben asked.

"How do you think we met?" Mary said drily.

"Are you lovers?"

"What gave it away?"

"The whole time, he never took his eyes off you. And you were checking him out as he left."

She smirked at him. "Oh, yeah."

"You know about his family, yes?"

"His Dad's a General in the Marines, if that's what you mean. And I can't believe you snooped around in his past before you came here. Or actually, I can. I just don't want to."

"His mother owns half the state of California."

"They don't talk. John calls her the Antichrist."

"The boy had acceptance letters into half a dozen Ivy League colleges before he left for Vietnam," Ben pressed on.

Mary carried on glaring. He sighed. "Mary. I don't want you hurt, my girl. Physically or romantically. If you carry on like this – with this – the former will happen. No doubt about it."

"And the latter?" She really had changed. The Mary he remembered would have been yelling by now. This one was calm, controlled despite the fury seething in her look.

"How long do you really think he's going to live this life before he figures out what he's left behind – what he's thrown away?" It was cruel, he knew, but he had to do it. Had to make her see, to come back to Connecticut where he could protect her and leave the hunting to him and Mark.

When he saw her flinch, though, he wondered if he'd gone too far. Ned and Lisa's deaths had torn gaping holes in their beautiful daughter; in her heart, her ability to trust, her willingness to love and be loved. It taken him, Mark and Colleen nearly six years to help her repair them even a little. Had he just undone all that?

"John will stay as long as he has to," Mary said quietly. "He can't escape this any more than I can. And Az – the Demon said it would never just leave us alone. I can't come back to Connecticut, Uncle Ben. I just can't. It killed Abe because I went to him for answers, and to spite us. I can't watch that happen to you, or Mark, or Colleen, and certainly not the kids. And John won't watch it do that to his family."

She stood up, coffee untouched, still perfectly calm and quiet. "Leave a message at Dan's if you need to get in touch with me."

Ben didn't stop her. He wasn't sure he could. Stunned and horrified, the enormity of what Mary had said slowly dawning on him, he watched as she crossed the parking lot, joined John. He didn't even glance at Ben, all his attention on Mary. She smiled up at him, said something. When he still looked concerned, she reached up, pressed her lips to his. Not a passionate kiss, but a loving one, reassuring. Ben was about stunned when she let him drive the Impala. He had the sinking feeling he'd just made a pretty stupid mistake.