Chapter 1

Mary Winchester's POV

I wipe the sweat dripping down my brow with the back of my hand. The kitchen is extremely hot. It's worth it, though. I'm baking an apple pie for my son, Dean. He is almost as obsessed with pie as I am obsessed with spoiling him. Almost. When he smiles he looks so much like my husband. His little chubby cheeks get even chubbier when he's smiling, and his little grins reach his green eyes. My son is the cutest thing on this planet with his dimples and freckles. He has blonde hair like me, only his is darker and not curly like mine.

"Pie!" Dean shouts, running as fast as his stubby legs can take him. He jumps into my arms and I pick him up, spinning him around as I do so. His little giggles fill me with joy, and I just can't keep the happy news from him anymore.

"I'm going to have another baby! A boy. You're going to be a big brother!" I announce, putting him down. I put my hands on my growing belly.

Dean looks at my stomach, and frowns. "Is that why you're tummy's so fat?"

I laugh. "Yes, honey, that's why."

"Babies poop a lot," he says, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes," I say.

"They cry a lot, too." My three year old son seems deep in thought.

"Yes, babies do cry." I smile at his thinking face. He looks so much like his father, my husband.

"Did I cry when I was a baby?" Dean asks.

"You did," I answer. I turn around to cut him a slice of homemade apple pie – his favorite.

"I don't cry anymore because I'm a big boy now!" He says proudly. I put the slice on a plate and hand it to him. "Pie! Thank you Mommy, I love you!" He sits on the floor and eats it all before I can even hand him a fork.

My heart breaks at the thought of my little boy, with pie crumbs on his mouth, lap, chin, and forehead, to learn to be a hunter. He would never have the childhood I want for him: where all he has to worry about is scraping his knee while he plays with his little brother. Not to learn how to shoot a gun by the time he's six, or to kill his first monster when he's eight. I just want my boys to have normal lives. As if to agree with me, the baby kicks inside me. I gasp, more out of shock than pain. Then, I smile. The little Winchester will be coming in about five months, and I just can't wait.

Dean yawns, and I realize that it's almost his bedtime. "Let's go brush your teeth, young man!"

John opens the front door, and comes into the house. Our little boy runs into his legs and hugs him, shouting, "Daddy's home! Daddy's home!" My husband laughs. He carefully removes Dean's hold on his legs. He spots me in the kitchen, and he grins the grin that made me fall in love with him. He strides over to me. Careful of the baby, he gently dips me as he kisses me on the mouth. I kiss back eagerly, my hands playing with his hair. I hear our son's, "Ew gross!" and pull away, laughing.

"I've decided on a name. Samuel, after your father," John says in my ear. "Just like how we named Dean after your mother."

"For my baby brother? Sam? Is that my little brother's name?" Dean asks.

Though the name of my late father brings back painful memories, what better way to honor his memory? "Yes."

5 MONTHS LATER

"Welcome home, Sammy," I coo, my sleeping baby boy in my arms. I press a soft kiss to his forehead before handing him – hesitantly – to John.

"He's my son too, you know," John whispers when he notices my hesitation.

"I know, I know," I mutter. Dean comes running, his baby sitter in tow.

"Can I see? Can I see Sammy?" he demands, standing on his tip toes and jumping up and down.

John chuckles. He carefully kneels so Dean can see his brother. "He's ugly, he looks like a wrinkly old frog man's butt," my four year old son says.

While John entertains Dean, I turn toward the baby sitter.

"Thank you so much for watching Dean. I know you asked for only twenty dollars, but here's fifty." I hand him two twenties and a ten. "Thank you so much, Michael."

"No, thank you. It was an honor to watch Dean. He's going to do great things when he's a grown man. Great things," Michael says. I swear, that boy's an angel.

I walk Michael to the front door before returning to my family. Sam's crying because Dean woke him up from his nap. I take our baby from John and sit on the couch to nurse him. He eats well, and he's a chubby little guy, who I can tell is going to grow tall and strong, like his father. I smile as he falls asleep in my arms. My family has never felt so complete.

6 MONTHS LATER

I wake up suddenly. I don't know why until I hear little Sammy's cry. I consider making John deal with our son's poopy diaper, but he just looks so peaceful and sound asleep. I sigh. The joy of parenting: getting woken up at two in the morning to change a smelly diaper while dodging a stream a pee that's aimed for your face. It's totally worth it, though, I think. Being a mother is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I get out of bed and walk to Sam's nursery. I go to open the door.

It's already open.

I see a dark shape looming over my child. Did John beat me here? The figure turns toward me, and I see two yellow, glowing eyes. Not that son of a bitch! Bastard's gonna pay for making my child cry. I scream and charge, letting my hunter's instincts kick in for the first time in six years. I go to kick him in the crotch, but he grabs my leg. I screech as my bone splinters. Through the haze of icy fire and knives stabbing my shin, I notice that Sam's stopped crying. At least there's that.

"You bitch! I told you nobody would get hurt if I wasn't interrupted!" The yellow-eyed demon, Azazel, yells. His scowl turns to a smirk. "How about this: I give your stupid children a more normal life than they would originally. If you sleep with me."

I am a faithful wife to my husband. "I would rather die than sleep with you!" I spit at him. "How about you give my babies normal lives, and I let you live?"

Azazel ponders this for a moment. "How about I kill you, and give your boys a normal childhood? Where they're together and happy?"

That's the best thing a mother could ask for. I glance at Sam, my Sam. A normal life. I think of Dean. They could both grow up as normal, happy brothers should grow up. They won't be hunters. They'll have the life that I always wanted for myself. All it costs is my life. They'll hardly remember me. In fact, I don't think they will remember me at all. John will miss me, but he'll get over it. He'll marry someone else, have some more kids. I sob, knowing what my answer will be. My death for their happiness. It's not an unfair price.

"Deal," I say.

Azazel kisses me roughly, his hands groping. Might as well not fight it. I'm already injured. I hear John call my name, and I realize – too late – I just made the wrong decision. I scream as the yellow-eyed demon rips my stomach open. I remember that I thought I was pregnant again. I see John fall to his knees. I see Dean staring at me. I see my husband tell my son something. I watch my oldest son grab my baby boy from his crib and run. I feel the wet warmth of blood cascading down my body. I feel myself float to the ceiling. I feel intense heat. I feel nothing.