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The house is repaired. The Winchester family settles back in.
Mary doesn’t feel safe anymore.
John holds her tight. “It’s gonna be okay, hon.” he murmurs. “We fixed the wiring; we replaced the wallpaper. The kids are safe. I promise.”
Mary nods and lets him hold her.
She doesn’t really believe him.
/-------/
The kids grow up. Sam turns one. Dean turns six. Mary slowly starts to feel comfortable once again in the home. Whatever happened face it Mary you know exactly what happened doesn’t seem inclined to repeat itself.
Then there’s Dean’s new friend.
Sam is taking a nap. John is at work. Dean sits in the living room with his blocks, building a tower with all the determination of a child. Mary sits next to him, helping when he lets her. She decides to talk it out with him now.
“Hey, Dean. Your teacher told me you have a new friend.” she says. He nods. She takes a steadying breath and continues. “Do you wanna tell me about him?”
He glances at something in the corner before returning his attention to the blocks. “Whatcha wanna know?”
“What’s his name?”
“Cas.”
“That’s a nice name. How did you think of it?”
“Cuz he’s got a long name, like Sam does. So I call him Cas.” he says with a shrug. Mary nods and hands him a block.
“So when did you meet him?”
“The night of the fire.”
And there’s the cold feeling again. This can’t keep happening. I left this shit behind! “Dean – did Cas start the fire?”
“No!” Dean shoves the blocks, knocking over his tower with such force that Mary pulls back in shock. He glares at her. “Cas helped. Cas is good!”
“Okay, okay!” Mary holds up her hands, surrendering to a six year old’s fury. Dean glares down at the scattering of blocks, arms crossed over his chest and hands clenched. Mary approaches her next question carefully. “If Cas didn’t start the fire, do you know who did?”
“The fire-man. He had yellow eyes. I haven’t seen him since. I think Cas is keeping him away.”
Yellow eyes.
Azazel.
Mary nods. “Okay, sweetie.” she whispers. She forces a smile. “Come on, let’s get your blocks together. Sammy should be waking up soon, and we can go to the park.”
/---------/
While Sam is asleep and Dean is at school, Mary lays salt lines. She salts down the doors, windows – everything. She even puts a ring of salt just around Sam’s crib. She tells John it helps keep bugs away. He lets her be crazy once again.
(One day she’ll tell him what’s happening, but not yet.)
It does nothing to keep Dean’s friend out of the house.
She’s doing some research into other means of protection, leaning against the kitchen table and reading some old books when she hears Sam and Dean playing in the living room. Along with another, deeper male voice she doesn’t recognize.
She’s on her feet and at the entrance to the living room in an instant. She freezes.
There’s a man in a trench coat sitting on the floor. Sam is curled up in his lap, playing with his tie and babbling at him in toddler language while Dean sits across from him. There’s some paper scattered in between them, and the man is teaching Dean how to draw something on the paper with crayons. The man smiles.
“You’re getting better.”
Dean grins at him. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Not at school, I hope.”
“Not since the teacher told Mama I was talking to you.” Dean shrugs and returns his focus to his paper. “I don’t wanna make her scared, ya know?”
“She just wants to protect you.”
“I know. But you protect me too, and I need to protect Sam.” He shoves the paper and crayon back towards the man. “Show me the next one.”
The man shakes his head, but there’s a soft smile on his face. “You need to master these first, but you’re close. Maybe a few more weeks.” Sam tugs on his tie, and the man turns his attention back to her youngest. “I’ll start teaching you when you can properly hold a crayon.” he tells the two year old.
Dean laughs. “Maybe I’ll be good enough to teach him!”
The back door opens, and Mary quickly steps back into the kitchen. The thing seems to be benevolent, and Mary doesn’t want to give it a reason to hurt the kids. John’s voice rings out.
“I’m home!”
“Dad!” Dean is on his feet, crayons and papers forgotten. The man puts Sam on his feet, and the two take off past Mary to greet John at the back door.
For a moment, Mary and the man stare at each other.
Then she blinks, and he’s gone.
/-------/
The next day, Mary meets up with a local pastor, a man named Jim.
They meet in Jim’s church. Mary has never put much stock in churches being safe from evil, but right now, she needs the added comfort. Jim smiles as he sits down next to her, old joints creaking as he does. “It’s been a while. I haven’t seen you this determined since you quit hunting.”
She nods. “I know. I needed to ask you a few questions.” She takes a deep breath. “Dean has a new friend. An imaginary one.”
Jim gives her a sharp look. “Not so imaginary?”
“I saw him last night playing with the boys. Sam was sitting in his lap.”
“Did you kill it?”
She shakes her head. “No. He had the advantage with Sam being right there, and honestly, I don’t think he’s evil. He was teaching Dean how to draw basic protection charms.”
“I see. So what do you need from me?”
“Dean calls him Cas. Do you know of anything that goes by that? Or something that could be shortened down to Cas?”
Jim considers for a moment. “The only name that comes to mind is Castiel – the angel of Thursdays.”
Mary freezes. “Angels don’t – do they?”
Jim shrugs. “I believe they do. Don’t know how much they interact with us, but if demons and everything else out there exists, why can’t they?” He leans back in the pew and sighs. “I guess the question is, how do you confront it to find out?”
She doesn’t have an answer to that.
/-------/
It continues like that for another few months, while Mary tries to figure out what to do.
John tried to get Dean to grow out of Cas a few weeks ago. Dean emphatically said that Cas wasn’t leaving until Cas wanted to leave. Now John is worried about this imaginary friend that Dean seems way too attached to. He doesn’t have the same background Mary does, but he’s seen enough horror movies to know that’s never a good sign.
When things finally come out in the open, it’s rather spectacular.
They’re on a road trip, staying at the legendary Stanley Hotel. Mary considers this the dumbest thing she’s ever agreed to. Her dad is probably rolling over in his grave right now. John is excited to stay in the hotel that inspired his favorite book. Mary just wants to make it home alive.
At least she came prepared. She has her backpack fully stocked.
They’re settling in for the night, John telling Dean and Sam all the things they’re going to do tomorrow. Mary gets herself ready for bed in the bathroom.
The lights flicker.
In a flash she’s back in the bedroom, watching the lights continue to flicker erratically. John offers the boys a tight smile, trying to be cheerful but clearly freaked out. “Maybe it’s one of the ghosts come to say good night.” he teases. Mary reaches her backpack and pulls out a container of salt and a small iron rod. John gives her an odd look. “Mary?”
“If it is a ghost, it’s not coming to say good night.” she says darkly. No sense in hiding anything now. “Keep the boys behind you. Dean, hold on to Sammy.”
Dean is already on it, keeping his brother held tight against his chest. His eyes keep flickering from the lights to his mother and then back to Sam, who’s starting to cry.
The wall in front of them warps. Something steps out from it, dripping black tar, a rattling noise emanating from the form. John swears, stumbling back to the boys. Mary drops the salt, spilling it in front of her, and grips the iron rod like it’s a bat. She swings.
The thing vanishes before she can hit it.
“Shit!”
“Cas!”
Before Mary can process what’s happening, the man in the trench coat is there. He steps around Mary, using one arm to guide her back to her family. She doesn’t let go of her weapon, but she does cling to John’s arm.
Cas watches the wall where the thing came out. Thick black tar still oozes from the wood like an open wound. His lip curls in disgust. “Pathetic. Go haunt another room tonight.” He glances over his shoulder at the family. “Close your eyes.” Dean immediately complies, covering Sam’s eyes with his own hands. Mary and John are a second behind them.
Even through closed eyes the light still hurts.
When it fades, the room is normal again. No tar, no gashes in reality. The lights hold steady.
And Cas is still there.
Mary takes a step forward, shaking. “You have some explaining to do.”
He turns his attention to John, ashen but still holding on to the boys.
“We both do.”