A/N: I'm sick and bored, so this is what comes of it. Just a short little nothingness. Really… there are spoilers for nothing, except maybe the Pilot and Route 666.

John/Mary and some slight reference to Dean/Cassie but that's about it for romance.

I don't own anything really. : (

So, this really has no point what-so-ever. It was originally way more confusing, but it's a little clearer. If you've got any questions, go ahead and ask away. Maybe I can answer. I apologize for any errors.


"I think I've met you before." She whispered as he brought her soft hand to his lips, her eyes shining in the possibility of their future.

He shook his head. "Doubtful. I'd remember someone as amazing as you."


Dean was different with her.

John was meeting part of his son for the first time when his oldest laid eyes on Cassie.

Winchester liked her from the beginning.

He liked this new Dean a lot, too.

But from the beginning he knew they'd never met again.

They were leaving soon.

She'd have to stay behind, content with a week or so of romance and some half assed lie for why he had to leave her.

Not once, would John suggest staying or the truth.

Because love is just a prelude to pain.

Something this hardened ex-marine, ex-husband, ex-lover, knows too damn well.


"I think I've danced with you before." She whispered, her head rested against his chest.

He shook his and spoke softly over the music. "Doubtful. I'd remember a feeling like this."


Dean looks beyond uncomfortable, but John can't seem to stop smiling.

"This is ridiculous." Dean grumbled, running his hand down his chest distastefully and pulled at his collar. "I look ridiculous."

John straightened his son's tie and reached up to brush away some stray hairs. "No. You look fine." He rested his hands on Dean's shoulders and they smiled at each other, before Dean looked away embarrassedly and cleared his throat, heat breaking out across his cheeks.

Sam was staring at them both from his cross-legged position on the motel bed. He was holding his scraped knees and rocking back and forth, still delighted that Dean was going to dance.

Just like the girlie ballerinas.

"Big night." John said thickly, patting Dean's shoulder before letting go. Dean nodded, still managing to busy his eyes with someone else besides his father's face.

"Guess so." He whispered. John grinned.

"Nervous?" He asked. Dean finally looked at his father with wide eyes and his shoulders slumped slightly.

His eyes said; you have no idea.

"Remember that werewolf in Portland?" Dean asked, swallowing. "Well this is worse."

John chuckled and pulled Dean to his chest with one arm, overcome with emotions.

Dean and Sam exchanged glances and Sam snickered from the bed. Before he could protest however, John pulled the youngest into the hug as well.

"Dad." Sam whined.

"You're wrinkling my shirt." Dean muttered and John let go.

They seemed shaken by the unusual display of affection, but John didn't care.

Dean was going to his first school dance, something he never expected to see. Not after everything they'd been through.

School dances just seemed trivial.

Thankfully Dean and the Becky Rogers didn't think that way.

John stayed up until nearly midnight watching movies with Sam—though the eight year old had fallen asleep in his lap before nine—waiting for Dean to return.

"I hate dancing." Dean grumbled when he came in, but then he smiled widely. "Thanks for letting me go."

Now a days, John yearns for those boys and their innocence.


"I think I've kissed you before." She whispered, pulling away.

He shook his head. "Doubtful." He whispered, his eyes closed, lips still tingling. "I'd remember a taste like this."


"So… thanks." She whispered, fingering his necklace as her hands rested on his chest. His arms were wrapped around her.

Their closeness was forced.

There had been a chasm between then since she'd learned the truth. He nodded and brought his face to hers, kissing her softly.

Her hands fell and he hugged her closer.

But when they touched… the abyss between them closed and they were thisclose all over again. All the lies—and the equally frightening truth—blurred and disappeared and it was just them.

Two kids who knew nothing more than the life they'd been thrown into and longed for a touch like this.

Her hands ran up his strong back, gripping his shoulder blades and they shifted, his hands going to her face.

She pulled back and they both breathed heavily, their chests heaving and their breath leaving clouds in the cold autumn night.

"Come inside?" She whispered, her hands on his waist. His jade eyes fell closed and his head hung.

"I want to…" He whispered and she kissed him, stopping him from saying no.

"Then do." She pleaded. "John… just one night."

"Just one night won't be enough."

"Forever won't be enough." She corrected with a smile.

He looked into her eyes and swept back her blonde hair, holding her face softly. "Forever will just have to do." He whispered and then kissed her, a collision of lips, souls and fate that left them both weak in the wake.

He said 'I love you' when he pinned her on the bed and kissed her with a passion he'd never imagined could exist. She said her "I love you's with her fingertips on his skin.

And when it was over she turned to him and whispered. "I think I've made love to you before." And laughed.

He pulled her close and stared deep into her eyes and shook his head. "No." He assured her. "I've never felt like this before."

And their forever started when the sun rose.


"I think I've met you before." She sobbed, smiling, and kissed Dean's forehead. John wrapped his arm around her and stared at their son.

"He's perfect, Mary." He whispered, his voice thick and heavy in his throat.

Their happily ever after started when Dean opened his eyes.

But the hero and his family only live happily ever after in fairytales.

And that's just not what this is.

When Sam was born and Mary was just too tired to hold him—so instead, Dean sat with Daddy while Mommy slept, and held the baby in his lap—the world shifted and forever started again.


John fell to his knees in front of the grave and pounded his fists on the wet soil, grasping harshly at the grass.

"I'm so sorry…" He sobbed, his tears mixing with the heavy rain. "I'm so, so sorry." He looked up at the sky and closed his eyes.

"Mary… please… I need you."

"Daddy." The voice was so small, so quiet that John barely heard it.

He turned, still on his knees and saw Dean standing there. The little boy was barefoot, in his blue flannel pajamas and his hair limp on his head, soaked. He was supposed to be sleeping in the car, with Sammy.

He shouldn't be outside. John realized, even in his grief.

He remembers fighting with Mary about that so often. He never wanted to let Dean go outside in the cold, he was so irrationally afraid that Dean could contract phenomena in twenty minutes.

Mary on the other hand, would laugh at her husband's overreaction and throw off her shoes, grab her only son's hand and run with him out into the rain, splashing in puddles and sticking out their tongues to taste mother's natures tears.

John's breath hitched and Dean—who was just so intuitive for a four year old—knew Daddy was sad.

"Daddy…" Dean cried and ran into his father's arms. John held Dean tightly and sobbed violently. "Don't cry, Daddy."

They sat there for nearly ten minutes, holding each other and crying. "I'm sorry, baby." He whispered, holding the back of Dean's head. "I should have saved Mommy."

"Momma's okay, Daddy." Dean yelled over the roaring rain and the thunder. He pulled back and looked into John's eyes. "Me and Sammy were her heart, remember. She's okay, cause she's still got her heart."


"I want you to go to school! I want Dean to have a home!" He turned away from them and whispered the next line with so much heartfelt emotion that it almost broke his boys.

"I want Mary to be alive."

And they both knew he wouldn't be whole again until he held her in his arms.


"Dad, you selfish son of a bitch." Dean whispered, holding John's hand tightly as Sam pressed down on the wound.

"You're hurt." John whispered, fingers running over the deep gash in Dean's side.

"Just a scratch." His oldest assure him. "You're the one down on his ass." Dean looked at Sam. "What are you doing? Press down!"


"Sam!" Dean yelled and his voice cracked.

John coughed once and both his boys looked down at him, their eyes pooling with tears and their faces covered in blood.

Some was his, some was their own.

"Boys… I… I'm sorry." John whispered.

Dean shook his head. "Don't you do this, Dad. Don't."

"Dean… I shouldn't have made you leave her." John watched Dean's resolve break and his oldest started to cry, lifting his father's hand to his face.

"Shut up, Dad. Just relax. We have to stop the bleeding." Sam whispered. John reached down with his free hand and grabbed his son's hands.

"Sammy…" John whispered and smiled softly. Sam shook his head, biting his lip.

"No, Dad… we can fix this."

"It's not broken. This is how it was meant to be."

"Please. Dad, we still need you." Sam sobbed. John shook his head and squeezed Sam's hand.

"No. You have each other." The pain was gone now, and the world was starting to grow dark. "It's over… you two can do anything now."

John took in a deep shuttering breath and looked at Dean, smiling. "You look so much like your Mother." He whispered and touched Dean's cheek. "I love you, Dean."

Dean nodded, unable to speak.

John turned to Sam. "I'm sorry for all those years I pushed you."

"It's okay." Sam said immediately.

"No. It's not. I should have let you live your life the way you wanted to live it." He swallowed. "I'm proud of you, Sam. I love you, kiddo."

Sam pursed his lips together tightly and sobbed openly and leaned down to hug his father's shoulders.

"Please, don't leave, Dad." Sam begged and held his father until he died.

"Sam." Dean whispered, his voice laced with pain of both the physical and emotional kind. "We have to get out of here."

Sam sat up and sniffled, wiping at his face and smearing his father's blood across his cheeks. "What about Dad?"

"You know what we have to do." Dean started to stand, but ended up on his ass again, weak from blood loss and just… so goddamn tired of it all. "Damnit…"

Sam helped his brother to his feet, and looped Dean's arm across his shoulders. "There's… gas in the trunk." Dean whispered and winced, holding his arm tight to his ravaged chest. "Salt the place too."

Sam nodded and set Dean inside the Impala. They made eye contact and Dean smiled weakly at his brother.

"He's with Mom, now." He whispered before his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness.


He laughed tearfully when she walked towards him. "I think I've met you before." He whispered and felt rejuvenated when she touched him.


Sam threw the lighter down and watched the small cabin catch flame with their father's body inside.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he reached out without taking his eyes off the blaze and caught the sleeve of Dean's shirt.

"You shouldn't be walking." Sam whispered.

"You shouldn't be here alone." Dean whispered back.

They watched the fire die down and Dean grunted softly as he lost the strength to his legs, Sam caught him and Dean let his brother take most of his weight.

"We need to get you to a hospital."

"What are we going to say?" Dean asked, his chin quivering.


"At his funeral?" Dean asked, his eyes falling closed again and his head lolling on his baby brother's shoulder.

Sam looked at the house and up at the sky as he lifted Dean's battered body into a fireman hold. "He got his happy ending." Sam whispered and walked back to the car.


"Did you love her?" John whispered, driving away from Cassie's house.

Dean grunted in reply and put on his seatbelt.

John sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"For what, Dad?" Dean asked, looking at his father. John didn't answer, but Dean knew what he said.

Because love is just a prelude to pain.

But most of the time, its worth it.


Sam cast one last glance back to the burning house and then turned his back to his forever. He smiled sadly at his brother as he lifted Dean's legs inside the car.

They wouldn't end up like their father.

They had a life to live.

Their forever started now.


"I think I've loved you before." She whispered and touched his lips so softly. He closed his eyes, two tears sneaking out the corners and trailing down his cheeks.

He smiled and nodded. "I think I have too." He whispered.

Their forever started when he kissed her.