Chapter Text
2nd November, 1983
The sound of her crying child wrenched Mary out of her uneasy sleep. She felt around the around the bed, searching for her husband.
“John?” When her hands met nothing but cold sheets, she sighed, realising John must have fallen asleep in front of the television after their fight the previous day. Her limbs heavy with sleep, Mary slowly rose from the bed and crept to the nursery, careful not to wake her older son, Dean. A figure loomed over Sam’s cot.
“John?” She asked again. “Is he hungry?”
“Shh,” was his only reply.
“Alright,” she shrugged, not having the heart to fight this late at night. As she turned and left the room, something caught her eye that made her heart stop in its tracks. A flickering light. A classic sign of the supernatural. The hunter in her wanted to grab the salt, and every instinct was telling her to take her children and hide. Calm down! She reprimanded herself internally. Normal people wouldn’t panic over a flickering light. They hadn’t changed that bulb in a while – that was all.
To appease herself, she walked over to it and tapped it gently with her fingertip until the flickering stopped. There, she thought. Relief evened her heartbeat. She had just been overreacting. The sound of the television reached her ears. She exhaled sharply in irritation. He couldn’t even be bothered to turn off the TV! She made her way down the stairs, but as she reached the bottom step for the second time that night, her heart went cold. John was laying on the sofa. Who the fuck was with her child?! She started back up the stairs, but the calendar on the wall stopped her dead. It was November 2nd, the ten year anniversary of her parent’s deaths. The ten year anniversary of her deal.
His voice rang in her ears. “In ten years I need to swing by your house for a little something, that’s all.”
She remembered demanding what for.
“Relax,” he had soothed her in a tone that did all but that. “As long as I’m not interrupted, nobody gets hurt, I promise.”
How could she have done that? Her child was in danger now because she’d been too weak to live alone. She wanted to run in there and run that yellow eyed demon through! But with what? What could possibly kill a demon? Could she exorcise it in time, before it hurt somebody? Standing here doing nothing wouldn’t save her son. She had to do something! She ran up the stairs, back towards the nursery. She knew unarmed she wouldn’t be any use to anyone, but she had to try. She slammed the door open.
“Exorcizamus-” she cut off when she realised the room was empty. Mary was almost too afraid to look inside Sam’s crib. Slowly, cautiously, she approached it. Peering inside, she realised a shaky breath of relief. Sam was safe, and asleep. She reached out and pressed him to her chest, trembling as the adrenaline surging through her veins subsided and all that was left was gratitude. By some miracle, her son was safe.
“Angels are watching over us, Sam,” she whispered, stroking his cheek. She stopped abruptly when she saw a streak of crimson on his lower lip. It glistened wetly. She hesitantly ran her finger over it and brought it closer to her eyes. Blood. “Oh god,” she whispered. That son of a bitch fed my baby his fucking blood! As she shook with rage, suburban mum Mary Winchester took the backseat, and hunter Mary Campbell came out to play. She knew what she had to do now to save her son.