As the door slams shut behind Dean and he stands outside on the porch a very real realization hits him; he can feel the ground under his bare feet. Suddenly the rushing out doesn't feel like the best idea anymore and he reaches back for the doorknob; just to find it locked. Well shit.
There he stands only in his boxers, shivering in the night air, with a locked door that would lead to all the clothes he so desires at the moment. He blushes, and tells himself it's the cold colouring his cheeks. It isn't like him to blush, and he has done it what, three times in the last half an hour.

Should he just ring the doorbell?

As he reaches for the doorbell (really, he's not so desperate that he's going to go running around the streets half ass naked), he catches a clothes line on the other side of the porch, where someone has left clothes to dry; there are pants and shirts just hanging there, pants and shirts to fit all needs and even a pair of slippers on the floor next to the clothes line. He sighs of relief and pulls on a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt. The slippers aren't too fancy, with a hole right beside the big toe, but they'll have to do for now.

Not too bad. He can deal with this without getting arrested of public nudity; as far as he knows, it's not illegal to showcase ones toes in Kansas.

He walks to the Impala, now parked neatly in front of the house. He doesn't have the keys, but that has never been a problem before and he's soon inside his ride, driving away into the night.

As he drives he tries to clear up his thoughts; the photo just couldn't be real, could it? Well, just one way to find out, right?

He drove until he saw the familiar house and front yard. He parked the car, shut the motor and just stared at the house, deep in thought. The lights were out, the grass had gotten a bit too long and there was a wind chime tinkling in the wind.

Slowly, he stepped out of the car and walked to the porch; he hesitated, just a second, before first knocking on the door, then ringing the bell, two times for good measure.

He didn't have to wait long; only a couple of seconds after the last ring and the porch light illuminates the darkness, letting him see a figure coming towards the door the shadow illuminating on the curtain covering the window on the door. The door opens without hesitation and there she stands;

Mary, in her nightgown and a purple bathrobe swung over it, her hands crossed over her stomach, guarding her from the cold chill of the night air. Her eyes are studying his face, full of worry. She looks just like Dean remembers her; maybe a bit older but still. It's like the fire never happened. Dean can't stop staring at her. She's here.

"Dean." She says. It's not a question but a statement, and something in the way she says his name makes Dean feel all warm and fuzzy inside; like he's finally come home after years and years of being lost. He had to blink a few times, to avoid tears running down his cheeks; he was not a freaking sissy and he had already been blushing, there would be no crying.

Still, there was something stuck in Dean's throat when he croaks out the only word that he can manage;

"Mom?"

Mary scrunched her eyebrows and looked worried. She could see that something was wrong with Dean; it was a long time ago since she had seen his son on the verge of crying; even at his father's funeral he had put on a brave face, even if no one could be fooled by it.

"What are you doing here? Are you alright?" She gave Dean a mother hen look Dean could remember from his childhood; when he had been doing something, well, not too safe and hurt himself she would have been there to blow on the "battle wounds", no matter how small they had been.

"I… I don't know." was all he could say, and all he could do was stare at the woman. She looked a bit confused, but stepped aside from the door.

"Well…" she says and waves her hand, motioning invitingly as Dean just stands there and keeps on staring like his lost the last bit of his already confused mind. "…come inside."

Dean snaps out of his trance and steps in through the door, but still keeps his eyes glued on the woman. It's just that for the first time in his life he can't believe his eyes. There needs to be some sort of explanation for this. Something…

"Cas just called; he said you just took off all of a sudden. And just in your under wear on top of that." she smiles a bit at this and gives Dean a good look up and down, chuckling when she sees the slippers he's wearing. Dean glances down and knots his toes; his big toe vanishes out of view, before the words Mary had said actually reach his consciousness.

"Cas?" It takes him a while to link the name and the man back at the apartment together. "Right…" he would not sleep with a man. There has to be something behind all of this. He glances back at Mary, now determined to make sure that it is her. He wouldn't be lead on.

"Let me ask you a question." He gives Mary a searching look and decides to go with the one question he's sure no one else could possibly know the answer to;

"When I was a kid, what did you always tell me when you put me to bed?"

She looked at Dean, with slight confusion on her face; "Dean, I don't understand-"

Dean stomach made a lurch, was this really his mother? His face and voice hardened. "Just answer the question." he said, without any sympathy in his voice. If this was some sort of impostor he was going to beat the living shit out of it; how dear it impersonate his mother, living or dead.

Mary stared back at Dean, wondering what was going on with his son, if he'd gone completely mad. There was a slight worry in her expression, but she had already decided that if this was what he needed to hear, then that was what she would tell him.

Dean almost quivered with anger; if this woman couldn't answer the question it wouldn't be his mother. And now it looked pretty sure that it didn't know it. But then she smiled and reached out to touch his cheek gently; "I told you angels are watching over you."

The heavy weight rolled off of Dean's heart and he could breathe easily again. "I don't believe it." he said out loud, voicing his thoughts. He reached out and grabbed her into a real tight embrace; a hug that he had been waiting for, for years.

"Honey you're scaring me." Mary mumbles into the scruff of his neck, where he'd pressed her head. He backs off and smiles weakly. "Now just tell me what's going on." She was even more worried now.

"You don't believe wishes can, can really…" Dean almost choked on his own words. He had to stop for a while to swallow and breathe; it felt like he'd been holding his breath for minutes.

"What?"

Dean chuckled, "Forget it"" and drew her back into a hug; this time a little less desperate one, since he didn't want to scare his mom more than necessary. She answered the embrace so he thought it would be fine; his mother was tougher than what she looked like. Still, he thought it was only fair to give at least some sort of explanation;

"I'm juts, uh… I'm just happy to see you, that's all." he had to swallow down his tears again, but this time he managed to pull it together. He released her from the hug and looked down at her, smiling fully, the laugh lines in the corner of his eyes visible. "You're beautiful." he said and laughed a little at the irony; when he usually says that to a woman, they end up in bed, having, erm, fun. He'd never had the chance to tell his mother she was beautiful.

"What?" Mary asked amused now. Dean wondered if he's ever told her that; even here. From now on he would make damn sure she'd be hearing it a lot.

He finally let his eyes wonder from the woman and looked around; the place looked nice. Not quite like he remembered it from before the fire, but the same elements can be seen. Talking about the fire…
"Hey, when I was uh… When I was young was there ever a fire here?" he asked, glancing at his mom over his shoulder before walking over to the wall and the book case, filled with proudly displayed photos.

"No. Never." Mary says shaking her head and watching her son intensely go through the wall, moving from picture to picture like he'd never seen them before.

"Huh." Dean huffed, "I thought there was." he liked this reality more and more.

He watched at the photos, filled with happy memories; a family portrait with both his parents and Sammy, every one smiling and happy. The picture made him smile; Sam had gotten the childhood he'd completely missed.

"I guess I was wrong." and never had he been so damn happy about being wrong.

There's another picture of him, wearing a cap and his cool face, looking at the camera like he owns the world; Dean chuckled at that. He betted he was really annoying as a teenager. There's also a picture of him, a pretty looking chick at his arm, all smiles and formality, it was a normal prom picture taken at a normal prom. But the chick was good looking, and Dean approves of his younger-self's taste. At least that had stayed the same. Then the picture of the man in his bed, Castiel, pops back to his head and he can't but wonder what had happened to make that his reality.

When he comes to the last picture he picks it up with a huge smile; it's a black and white photo of John, wearing a baseball uniform, topped even with one of those silly caps the athletes use to wear, a bat in his hand and ready to swing. John is looking straight to the camera and wearing a smile to match Deans.

"Dad's on a softball team…" he muttered to himself, slightly amused, since he just can't see his serious and military like dad having such a vanilla hobby as softball. He turned around to Mary who had again crossed her arms to her stomach even if it wasn't cold, looking worried even if Dean was smiling; "Dad's… dad's softball team it's… That's funny to me." Dean said, only telling the truth.

Mary looked sadly at the picture and hugged herself a bit harder with her arms, like giving comfort. "He loved that stupid team." she said with a sad smile.

"Dad's dead?" Dean asked, but his mother took it as a statement. Which would have been good, but suddenly it's very important for Dean to know how his father had died, "And the thing that killed him was a…"

"A stroke. He died in his sleep, you know that."

Dean was relived; for a while there he had thought that it had been the yellow eyed demon that had ended his father. But thank you to all the gods, Azaziel was not the one to be blamed of this death.

"That's great." he said, and meant it. Rather a stroke, a painless way to go in his sleep than selling his soul and going to hell. Apparently Mary didn't agree.

"Excuse me?"

Well that's not how he'd meant it. "That's… that's great. That he went peacefully." he said and nodded convincingly a couple of times, "That sure beats the alternative." he added to himself.

Mary shook his head and looked slightly disappointed at the floor rather than Dean;
"You've been drinking."

"No, I haven't. Mom." Dean tried to make it very clear that he had definitely not been drinking; why did every one think he'd been drinking? Was that all he did here? Drank?

Mary was already walking to the phone in the hallway, giving Dean a couple of equally worried as disappointed glances at the same time. "Just gonna call Cas and have him come pick you up, ok?" she said to Dean as she reached for the phone, picking it up and getting ready to dial the number.

"Wait. No, no!" Dean didn't want to go back to the apartment. He wanted to stay here, make sure this wasn't just a dream and Mary was going to be okay even in the morning. That he was still going to be here in the morning.

He walks to Mary and gently takes the phone from her hand and places it back on the table. "Don't-don't do that." he tries desperately to come up with an excuse to stay here, so that he won't have to go, so he can spend as much time as possible with his mother.

Mary stares back up at him with amazement; usually Dean wouldn't mind Cas picking him up, au de contraire, he prefers it. And Mary knows why; the men were so close that they seemed to be reading each other's minds at times. So why would Dean want to stay here?

That was exactly the same thing that Dean was thinking at the same moment.
"Because I-" come up with something you stupid…"I miss this place." yes, that could do. "It's ok, you-you go to bed. Ok?"

Dean gives Mary a reassuring look, walks to the couch, sits down heavily, leans back and lets himself sink into the sweet, sweet softness of the couch.

Something inside Mary's mind softens at the sight; it's like his son has come back after a long journey and she is happy to welcome him home, even if he never actually left. So she walks up to him, strokes his face and asks what every mother would at the same situation;

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Dean smiles at his mother so radiantly that she knows the answer before it passes his lips;

"I think so."

"Ok."

She bends down and kisses his forehead, like all mothers do. She looks at Dean for a second before walking to the door, just to stop and look back again.

"Get some rest." she says. "I love you."

The statement makes Dean glow inside and he feels like he would be floating over the moon. How mushy of him, but for once he doesn't care.

"Me too." he replies, listens as Mary's footsteps climb up the stairs and suddenly feels tired. So tired.

The last thing he sees before sleep takes him is the picture of Mary and John proudly smiling next to Sam at his graduation. He even wears one of those dorky outfits with the funky hats. Dean smiles at this and decides the look suites Sammy. His brother had always known how to wear funky hats.