A/N: I know crossovers don't get a lot of attention but when Mary came back from the dead and Forever got canceled, I had to write this. Again this is a 2017 preview story! Enjoy, let me know what you think!

Chapter 1: New York City

Mary Winchester walked through the streets of New York City looking for something, anything, that might take her back to her days before her death. The city was bustling, change was everywhere, and yet building, streets, the park, hadn't changed from those day when she'd known it. The lights in Time Square were newer and brighter but the adventure, sense of wonder and awe, and the hopes of the young looking to succeed were all that they'd been before. World Trade had changed dramatically, and the events that she learned about, the horrors that the museum depicted and the rushing of the memorial fountains broke her heart to know what this generation had lived through.

New York City was the hub of the modern world and if she was going to learn about it, and be a part of it, this was the place to be. She knew that her boys would not come to a big city like this, or if they did, they would stay off the island of manhattan all together, but for her, the past and the truths about what she had done, were far beyond her now. She could move through the crowds and not be recognized, she could visit places that she'd once enjoyed believing she would never see them again because the general rule was never to go back to the same place twice. But here, in New York, she would embark on a crash course into the modern world, and hopefully find the answers she'd need to return to her boys and to carry on.

Doctor Henry Morgan moved about the New York City Coroners Office well after everyone had left for the evening. His fellow doctors had rushed off to their families, the detectives had retreated to the stations and their desk, or their homes, and had left him nearly alone in a vast space of autopsy tables and chilling corpses. The only one to remain was his overly enthusiastic, but very bright, assistant Lucas Wahl.

Together they'd finished a rather straight forward autopsy on a drowning victim, that Henry ruled a suicide before even cutting into the poor girl, but proved it as he masterfully and meticulously showed off each bit of evidence that proved his theory.

"One of the worst ways to go," Henry sighed as the body was wrapped up and tagged, and just before Lucas took her away to be released later to the family and a funeral home.

"Because you would know," Lucas whispered.

"Indeed, Lucas, and you've promised to keep my secret," Henry warned as he moved off to his office and Lucas wheeled away the body.

"So what now? Drinks? Our own memorial for the people we've set to rest today? Do you have any plans this evening Doctor Morgan?" Lucas asked as he returned, knocked, and gained admittance into Henry's office.

Henry spun the case file around on his desk and held out the old, weighty, stylo for Lucas to sign off on the papers.

"Beautiful instrument, where did you get it?" Lucas asked as he handled the pen with care and admiration.

"The ViCount Marcel de Lion," Henry answered. "He was a scholar and a student of mine in Paris, 1872. I wasn't there long, but he was much like you back then. It was a gift from him on my departure."

"How do you manage to keep these things? They'd be worth a fortune!" Lucas gasped.

"I've amassed a multitude of memories over the years, Lucas, and things enough to trigger them. I'll admit, most of them are trinkets but some of them are very sentimentally valuable to me. Small things that I can throw into a case and disappear with if I must," Henry explained.

"I understand," Lucas said with a nod and handed the pen back to his mentor.

"And as for your question, I have no fixed plans for this evening. We could get a drink if you wish, but one and then call it a night," Henry said with a smile and stood. "Because tomorrow will be another day and we owe it to these people to be at our best."

"Indeed, sir," Lucas winked and rushed off.

Henry laughed to himself, it was nice to have someone look up to him in the way that Lucas did, and also to have a confidant in a man who was trustworthy and idolizing enough to keep his secrets out of respect and absolute awe. He stood from his desk, removed his lab coat and took up his scarf and great coat, and waited for Lucas to return. It only took a moment and then they were off.

Down the street, two blocks, and then off into the depths of the city, they quickly came to a place that Henry had frequented often enough and that had become a great favourite with many of the other members of the NYPD. They settled in at a table that was usually occupied by themselves and faced the door to watch the people as they came and went.

"Your favourite pass time," Lucas said as he sipped at the deep dark stout he'd ordered.

"Everyone has a story, Lucas," Henry responded as he swirled an amber liquid in a crystal glass. "Living they tell it through their eyes, their movements, their looks. While the dead tell it silently and mysteriously, with every knick and scratch, or scar and dimple. Everything tells a story," he said and then gasped.

"What?" Lucas asked as he looked at the woman who had walked in and up to the bar.

"I know her," Henry said.

"I'm sure you know many people who come and go," Lucas chuckled but hushed his voice all the same.

"I autopsied her in Laurence, Kansas. She was found dead in a house fire, but that's not how she died," Henry whispered.

"So she's like you?" Lucas asked in shock.

"It can't be," he swallowed hard.

Mary turned in that moment and recognized the man before her. Shaking from head to toe, she fled the pub out into the night streets.