The breeze caressed my cheeks gently, carrying with it the crisp aroma of freshly mown grass that tickled my nose. I shifted my head gently from side to side, taking in my surroundings. There I was, sprawled upon a gray blanket that was both soft and luxuriously shaggy to the touch, a comforting island on the ground. Above me, the sky wide and unblemished blue, while the soft murmuring of nearby river added a somewhat serene sound in the background. The air was laced with a scent that was invigorating and steeped in nostalgia, evoking memories of a time I couldn't quite pinpoint. I knew I had been here before, yet the details of when escaped me.
I sat up to take in more of what's in front of me, a sea of greenery punctuated by the distant laughter of children. Trees a few feet apart, swaying with the gentle breeze. Flower bushes in between, whiffing their lovely scent. Why can I not remember this place? "Hey, darlin'..." a voice sprang, interrupting my thoughts.
I turned, only to be met by a hauntingly familiar face. A face that once brought joy, framed by neatly trimmed brunette hair in a crewcut, now only stirred a deep ache within me. Those hazel eyes, which used to light up my world, now shimmered with a bitter sweetness. My heart sank in sadness, and tears blurred my eyes. His voice, soothing me in both my brightest days and darkest nights, echoed in my mind. I closed my eyes tight, wishing away this nightmare. But as I slowly opened them, he was still there, his face adorned with that carefree, goofy smile that now twisted the knife in my heart.
A whisper called for Dean, but the harsh truth silenced it. "Michael..." I was stunned, unsure of what to do; my body reacted all at once. I wept, my arms wrapped around him in a desperate hug as grief washed over me. My frame shook uncontrollably, not just from the coldness of reality but from the haunting recall of the warmth and security his presence once offered, a sanctuary forever lost.
His strong embrace, the solid comfort of his chest, the subtle scent of engine oil clinging to his skin, and that smile… memories flooded back. God, this is too much. "Why the tears, darlin'?" he asked, his thumb tenderly brushing away my tears, confusion on his face. Each gesture, every word, was a reminder of a happiness so abruptly severed, leaving me all alone.
Words were buried by the torrent of tears, each breath a struggle to draw. I dreamt of days like this, just Michael and I being ourselves, enjoying each other, talking about everything and nothing. But our time together was cruelly cut short. Nine months in his deployment, he was gone. I never even got to say goodbye at his funeral; his family had made sure of that. I was an outsider mourning in silence.
The word barely whispered, engulfed in my overwhelming grief. The agony was piercing. As my body succumbed to uncontrollable sobs, he wrapped his arms around me, his embrace a haven. He rocked me gently, a soothing rhythm. Unexpectedly, I found a sliver of peace.
I'm not sure how much time passed as we held each other closely, but he eventually joked, "I'm going to need a new shirt if you keep going like this," accompanied by a robust laugh.
Tears streaming down my face, my fists hitting his chest. How can he make jokes at a time like this? "Why didn't you come back?" I cried out, the anguish cracking my voice. "Why didn't you keep your promise?! You said…" Each word a shard of glass, cutting me deep. "You left me!" My voice echoed throughout the park.
He took hold of my wrists and bowed his head. At first, his whispers were lost, but slowly, the words 'I know' and 'I'm sorry' broke through the silence. Raising his head to meet my gaze directly, sorrow and regret laid bare in his, tears brimming, while his lips formed a melancholy smile.
"I—I never thought of us ending this way. You were the only thing that kept me going. I—" He faltered, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. Struggling for composure, he took several deep breaths, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. His face finally steadied as he looked up.
"I realized then…I wanted you to become my wife..." he whispered, the pain of missed chances and unfulfilled dreams echoing in his voice.
In that instant, guilt washed over me like a wave of betrayal, my pregnancy standing as a reminder of deceit. I gently shook my head, cradling my stomach. Though conceived unexpectedly with Dean, our child would never be seen as anything but positive. "Was I supposed to wait forever?" I whispered with resignation and sadness.
Silence between us, punctuated only by the whispering leaves and the faint murmurs of conversation from afar. The beauty of the state park, its warmth, and the softness of the blanket beneath us contrasted sharply with the salt on my lips and the tightness of my face, worn from endless tears. "Do you love him?" he asked, his voice breaking through the tension.
My mind went blank, enveloped by the heavy silence that now hung between us. The question, so unexpected, echoed within me, a haunting refrain as persistent and inescapable as the song "Gangnam Style" by PSY. Around us, the world seemed to pause, the vibrant colors of our surroundings dimming to muted shades of gray, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation of my response. Yet, I stayed quiet, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
"Do you love him?!" His voice rose, a notch louder this time, tinged with frustration that seemed to ripple through the air. Michael, usually confident and composed, now stood before me, his frame tense, his jaw clenched in turmoil.
"I don't know," Slipped from my lips, a whisper barely audible.
"You don't know? What does that mean?!" Michael stood before me, his brows furrowed, agitation swirling within him. His eyes seeking answers in my face that I couldn't provide. The tension in his jaw spoke volumes, revealing his struggle to comprehend, while his hands, clenched at his sides, betrayed the effort it took to contain his emotions.
It was my turn to get upset. "I don't have to-" The words dissolved into the heavy air, unfinished, as I turned away, my departure silent but for the sound of my bare feet against the cold, wet ground. The distance between us grew with each step, just like the wound in my heart.
"Reima!" His voice trailed behind me. "You're carrying his child, living under the same roof… What do you want? Are you using him?" The accusation hung heavily.
My jaw tightened. In a moment of raw emotion, I spun around and slapped him hard on the face, my heart aching as I did so. "How dare you?! Is that really what you think of me?!"
My breathing was labored, the sound in my ears deafening. Unbelievable. That he, of all people, would throw such accusations, which was shocking and hurtful. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have said that. Of course I don't see you that way, I never did. It's just that—Tell me why you're with him," he asked once more, his earlier frustration melting into a plea for understanding.
I found myself lost for words, maybe afraid of what the truth might reveal. I shrugged my shoulders, silently admitting the conflict within and the dread of confronting the answers that lay buried deep within.
In a heavy silence, with only the whisper of water in the background to accompany us, he uttered not a single word. Yet, his gaze remained on me.
Hauntingly, a hollow laugh escaped me as I shook my head with skepticism. "It's compl-"
"Because why, Reima?" His voice, tinged with desperation, cut through the air as he grasped my shoulder, spinning me to face him, searching for the truth in my eyes. Yet, I averted my gaze, unable to meet the intensity of his stare.
"Because I can't bear the thought of being alone… again, okay?! Just like you left, driven by some sense of duty!" The words stung as they tumbled out. It was painful to admit, yet I wanted him understood my fear and the raw ache of abandonment that haunted me.
"You both sacrificed so much. And for what?! For a thankless job?!… to leave those you love and those who loved you behind?! You left me! You fucking left me behind!" I whispered, voice breaking, tears streamed down my face. My body trembled, not with anger, but with the sheer weight of loss, the bitter taste of abandonment. All the while, he could only stand there, witnessing the fragments of my shattered heart.
"We were supposed to grow old together!" He tried to draw me close but I refused to be held. "My world crumbled to pieces. I wanted the pain to end even if it meant...And now, after all this time, you question me if I love him?!"
To my surprise, tears started trickling down his cheeks, mingling with a smile tinged with sadness. "I never wanted you to be alone. Darlin', I can't be there anymore—to hold you in my arms, to shield you from harm, to make you laugh…I'm jealous of Dean." His voice cracked under the weight of this admission, each word a shard piercing through, leaving behind a trail of heartache. "All of those that I can't do...he can. Dean can."
Watching Michael crumble before my eyes, reduced to a mere shadow of the man he once was, caused pain sharper than any I'd known. Even though he was gone for years, the thought that he still carried me in his heart was like a knife twisting deep in my soul. I wrapped my arms around him, our pain and tears mingling.
"Reima, just love him. It's so obvious—he loves you and your child deeply," he managed a bittersweet chuckle, the sound more a sigh than laughter. "We all see it. Open up to him, and you'll find what you've been looking for, I promise," he whispered, his voice a gentle nudge towards a future of me, Dean, and our child, yet heavy with the unspoken sadness of letting go.
"Dean Winchester at the helm of a van, huh? Is this the twilight zone or what?" Garth quipped from the backseat, amused and in disbelief.
"Shut up," was Dean's remark, more jest than irritation. He usually hates driving anything other than Baby; today was different. They went shopping for his unborn child, courtesy of the archangel.
Seeing Rae radiating with contentment, eyes sparkling with delight, dancing from one item to the next was infectious. Dean, usually tough, confident, and at ease with anything supernatural, was in an element out of his depth. Onesies, little socks, diaper bags, he was hesitant at first, but the growing excitement took over. While she and Garth were looking around, Dean went straight to the strollers, cribs, and car seats, meticulously examining its safety features.
Dean raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the camouflaged diaper bag. "You know, this could actually work for a hunt," he mused with a wry smile. "Plenty of space for, let's say, unconventional gear. It's practically tactical," he teased, drawing a delighted chuckle from Rae. In that moment, her laughter seemed to soften him, a warmth spreading through him. Without missing a beat, he plucked the bag from the rack and casually tossed it over his shoulder, adopting an air of mock-seriousness that only made Rae laugh harder.
"Hah? Whaddya think? Not too shabby, huh?" Dean inquired, a grin spreading across his face as he glanced over at her. The diaper bag was slung over his shoulder, giving him an oddly domestic warrior look that was both endearing and comical. She, in turn, was clutching her belly, her laughter making her resemble Kris Kringle in his jolliest moments.
Abruptly, Rae closed the distance between them, even though awkward, wrapping her arms around Dean's neck and drawing him into a tender kiss, her lips meeting his in a gentle, affectionate embrace. His lips, unexpectedly soft and inviting, responded with equal warmth, melting into the kiss. "You look great, Winchester," she murmured against his mouth, her words affectionate with admiration. Dean, caught in the moment, let out a contented sigh, his eyes reflecting the depth of his love for her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth in response to her compliment.
"So... Dean," Garth began, drawing the words out a little as he steered him back, his tone friendly yet probing. "Just outta curiosity, man, when are you planning on making it official with her?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean said with slight irritation. "She's already my wife."
Garth let out a frustrated sigh, locking eyes with Dean through the rearview mirror. "You really think that's okay?! You're gonna deny her the thrill? The dream wedding she's always wanted?"
Dean's forehead creased in a frown. He briefly parted his lips to speak, then thought better of it, sealing them shut almost immediately. Casting another glance at Garth, he let out an exasperated eye roll, conceding silently to Garth's point.
The whole Mr. and Mrs. Dean Campbell affair was a facade, a protective measure against Azazel. Ash had skillfully altered Rae's identity. She was no longer Reima M. Park-Gibbs of Stillwater, Pennsylvania, but Mary Rae Campbell, legally bound to him, Dean Campbell. While her fabricated history might raise eyebrows on close inspection, it was solid enough.
His jaw tightened, the memory of the demon responsible for his mother's death slipping through his grasp, fueling a deep-seated anger. The reality that he could no longer rely on his dad added another layer of irritation. The hunter who had given up so much, who had foregone his childhood in the pursuit of vengeance, now found himself alienated from the very mission that defined him. The agony of betrayal and the enormity of his sacrifices seemed to be diminished, trivialized by John's apparent disinterest in continuing the hunt for the yellow-eyed demon.
"Dean, we can't—this isn't a way to live," he recalled his dad's words as they sat on a deserted bench. John's gaze seemed to drift through him, focusing on something or someone beyond. Behind Dean, the sparse laughter of children playing on a nearby playground echoed, among them his half-brother.
Struggling to process everything, Dean felt a whirlwind of emotions. Overwhelmed and in shock, he found himself momentarily speechless, his mind racing to make sense of what he'd just been told. The urge to react physically—to shout, to smash something—was intense. Yet, instead of giving in to that impulse, he abruptly stood up in disbelief. As he ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of distress, the reality of their situation hit him hard. "Dad, what about Mom?! You're acting like we should just forget her—have you?!"
John's voice rose, a surge of emotion breaking through his usually reserved demeanor. "Don't you ever accuse me of forgetting her, son!" His words were stern, yet they carried an undercurrent of raw pain, revealing a crack in his stoic armor. "Your mother… She was everything to me!" In that moment, the tough, unyielding hunter facade faded, laying bare the grief-stricken man beneath. Dean followed his father's gaze, landing on a young boy and a woman, their laughter floating in the air, the focus of John's distant attention.
John's expression mellowed, a gentleness entering his voice. "Let it go, son. Live your life. The life you're meant to have. You're more than a hunter; you're so much more. Don't let this life consume you."
"Stop the car!" The urgency in Rae's voice pierced through his thoughts.
Dean was confused. "We're almost back at the bunker, just ten minutes out. Hang on, okay? Just—"
But Rae's panic escalated. "Stop the motherfucking car!" Her voice was louder, more desperate, as she began to pry the door open in a frantic attempt to escape.
"Have you lost it?!" Dean shouted, his attention split between the road and Rae. His Left hand clutched the steering wheel while his right reached out to restrain her. Garth leapt into action, pinning her down to the passenger seat, allowing Dean to focus on pulling the van over.
In the blink of an eye, while in a chaotic moment, Gabriel, appeared behind him, then vanished quickly, taking Rae with her. The van, once filled with tension and panic, fell eerily silent, leaving them in stunned silence on the side of the road.