Time Never Heals

Author's note: I just finished downloading and watching the third episode, for some reason I felt profoundly moved by the back story given to Mary and John. This is just something that came from the episode. Very minutely spoilerish so read at your own risk if you haven't seen the episode yet. I have added a little of my own filler material to flesh out the time between John and Mary's engagement, marriage and the arrival of Dean.

S/D


D/S

Time is fickle, it lets you run with it and then it runs away from you. In the blink of an eye, childhood is finished and adulthood is spiralling out of control.

He stands staring at her tombstone with tears rolling down his cheeks, ten years they had, ten bittersweet years, they survived her parents' death; they survived circumstances beyond their control: then they married.

Wise beyond her years and yet so innocent, wide-eyed and desperate for normalcy, for safety, for a family: he gave that to her.

Good natured he saw joy in a harsh world, an easy smile and warm embrace; he believed in love and family: he wanted happily ever after.

He held her hand when they buried her parents, he kissed her tenderly when they married, he held her tight when the nightmares became too much to bear: he loved her.

They cried together when they lost the first baby, they sat silently together when they lost the second baby, they rejoiced when the saw their first son: they wept with joy when they saw their second son.

He played with their sons, he loved her more with each passing day; she loved him with such an intensity that made him feel safe: they were a family.

He came home that night into his toddler's waiting arms, he came home that night to her passionate embrace; he came home that night to put his baby son to bed: he came home.

He felt the time sliding passed him as he stood and stared down at the grave stone, a monument to a lost life a taken life; a patch of ground that held nothing more: he only has his memories.

A pair of arms encircles his muscular leg, a tiny finger clutches his and slides it into a small mouth, suckling, familial, comfort: He wants to die but lives for his sons.

He wants to stay with her, though she is not there; he doesn't want to leave his love at the mercy of time: all he can hear is the soft whimpering of a baby.

He looks down and stares into the too-solemn eyes of a four year old, he looks down at the baby snuggled against his chest; he looks back at the tombstone: his heart fragments and splinters.

He watches his son succeed on another hunt, he watches his youngest happy at college far away from the hunt, he watched the time pass alone; silent and watchful: he hears her laughter.

He watched his eldest son comfort his youngest, he watched his baby boy stand at a graveside; he watched over his sons as nightmarish screams filled the evening breezes: he watches his son who is so like her.

He watched the demon smile, he felt the smile tug at his lips, he watched his sons grieve; he felt her at his side: he once again felt the heat of the flames.

Time, it moves without prompting, time, it pulses and beats through your life, time never stops, never starts it is continuous, insipid and vengeful, comforting and safe: He knew one thing about time, it never heals all wounds.