26th November 1983

We're staying at a stranger's house. He saved my life, without him, my boys could have become orphans. Of all the places I could have stopped at, I had to stop at the town with a werewolf on the loose.

I'd only gone out for a minute. I'd re-salted everywhere, even putting a ring of salt around the bed and double locked the door. Sam had run out of diapers and I wanted to get some candy for Dean to try and cheer him up. I was so stupid, why didn't I just wait until the morning? I left Sam and Dean on their own, a four year old and a six month old, in a motel room. What kind of mom does that? They were asleep in the bed, Dean's arms wrapped around Sam after he insisted his brother slept in the bed, and the store was just down the street. I thought it would be alright.

As I left the store I heard low, menacing growls. I assumed, and hoped, it was just someone's dog, and that the dog was on a leash. But it wasn't until she came out of the shadows that my fears were realised. The girl was short, probably in her early twenties with blonde curls. Her fangs were already dripping in blood and her horrific eyes just stared at me, taking in every detail. With a snarl, she broke into a run, heading straight for me. In an instant, I ran in the opposite direction to the motel, down some twisting alleys in the hope I could find some quick escape. There was no way that I was even risking her taking a liking to my sons, but I was stupidly risking myself. The panic and suddenness of the situation caused me to forget all my father had taught me at that moment. I had no silver on me, nothing to defend myself, and she sure could run. I was pretty sure I was never going to make it back to the motel alive.

But that's when he appeared. He shoved me behind him and shot the girl right in the heart. I couldn't help but feel bad for her. She probably didn't ask for this to happen to her, she probably had no memories of her transitions. She probably didn't want to be a monster.

"Are you alright?" he'd asked, his voice gruff but concerned, "She di'n't bite yer, did she?"

I shook my head, still reeling from the events. I thought of the boys, how I'd left them on their own. What if Dean had woken up and found me gone? He'd be freaking out, scaring Sam in the process. Without warning, I started crying uncontrollably.

"S'alright. Natural reaction, especially when ya think things like that don't exist. You're safe now," he said as softly as he could, "What's yer name?"

"M-Mary. Mary Winchester," I'd choked out, "I need to get back to my sons."

"I'm Bobby Singer. I'll take ya back to 'em," he started walking, gently propelling me with a hand on my back.

"I shouldn't have left them. I'm so stupid," I shook my head, wiping furiously at my eyes.

"How old are they?"

"Four and six months. Too young. Anything could have happened," I clenched my fists in anger at myself. We got back to the motel room and I unlocked the door to find both boys fast asleep.

"Coulda been worse," Bobby looked from me to them, "Yer alright now?"

I tried so hard to say yes, to put on a smile and lie. But I just couldn't. I broke down into tears and I told him everything. I wasn't sure why. He was still a stranger, after all. I told him about my upbringing, losing John. And he just listened before telling me his own story. He'd lost his wife to a demon. He'd killed her himself at the sheer panic of his wife being possessed. That's the thing about hunting. You're either born into it, or forced into it by death.

"You can come stay at my place, you and your boys, 'til ya work out where to go," Bobby said as Sam began to stir and get restless. In turn, this woke Dean, who sat up slowly and suddenly stared wide-eyed at the strange man in the room. I lifted Sammy into my arms and pulled Dean onto my knee.

"Dean. This is Bobby," I told him gently, "We're going to be staying with him a while."

I looked back at him, "If you're sure."

"Better you be safe with that…you know," he nodded respectfully at Dean but said nothing to him. Dean just nestled closer to me.

He's settled in alright. I was worried he'd hate the place and beg to leave. Dean likes looking at the cars in Bobby's yard and playing with his old Labrador, whose name I haven't worked out yet. He's starting to get better again. To my relief he liked the counsellor he met a few days ago, he said she was just like the lady back home, and she's managed to arrange a time for him to visit every week. She even gave him her home phone number in case he wanted to talk outside appointments. So far Dean hasn't yet.

Sam is definitely going back to his usual self, sleeping almost through the night and he's not so clingy anymore. Perhaps the consistency of the same place, a nice, quiet place, was relaxing to him. Bobby's house is a little run down and shabby around the edges, but I guess perhaps his wife was the one who was more interested in the upkeep of their home. Regardless, I feel safe here, the boys feel safe here. That's all that matters right now.

27th November 1983

Took the boys to the zoo today. Bobby told me about one not far from here. We've been at his house for a few days now and we'd sat around doing nothing, mostly. Dean was getting bored and irritable.

Seeing Dean at the zoo today was almost like nothing had happened at all. I almost expected John to appear, everything seemed so normal. Dean was smiling and running around, even making the most of the playground for a good hour. Sammy watched with a huge smile on his face. Soon he'll be able to run around with his brother. It'll do both of them so much good.

We took Sam on the little baby swings, and I'm not sure I've ever seen him so excited. Nothing can beat the look of pure joy on my little boy's face, or the look of accomplishment on Dean's face as he helped to push his little brother. They're so close, and I couldn't have wished for more.

Per Dean's request, we spent a lot of the time looking at the lions. He told me he wants to be brave like one, and sat quietly by the glass just watching them sleep or roam around. I think we'll have to come back to visit them again. Other than lions, the boys loved all the animals, and Sam seemed especially fascinated by the penguins. Some parents paid for their kids to feed them. I only wish I could afford to do that.

Sam has taken a shine to Bobby. I can tell he's not really one who likes kids, but he makes an exception for the boys. He's let Sam sleep on him several times, he's sat him on his knee. His expression always looks like he'd really rather not be holding my son, but he does anyway to make Sam happy. I can't ask for more than that. Dean is still a little cautious around him, though. He's very quiet around Bobby, won't talk unless Bobby talks first. He hides behind me a lot if he's around. I don't really know why; Dean's not normally so shy. Perhaps after all that's happened, he just sticks with familiarity. Not that I blame him. He'll come around with time.

December 1st 1983

December already. A month tomorrow since it happened, since I lost John. I don't know how I've made it this far without him by my side, but I had to stay strong for the boys. Who else would? I can't let Sam and Dean down. I'm all they have, besides each other.

Dean is doing so much better now but he's carrying on with the counselling. Just having a week off when the counsellor had to cancel last minute had taken its toll on him and he deteriorated just a little. I guess it's nice to have someone else to talk to. He's so considerate of me that he won't tell me what's wrong in case he bothers me, which of course he never could. He does talk to Sam a lot, I've heard him sitting by the basket Sam's having to sleep in right now, or just holding him in the living room when I've left the room for a second. He tells his brother how much he misses John, that he's worried about me and scared that he'll be on his own. I wish I could walk in and tell him not to worry, that I promise to protect him and his brother, but I know he talks in a hushed tone and when I'm not in the room for a reason. He'll tell me himself when he's ready. While Sam is a good listener; he stares at you curiously as you talk and appears to take in every single word, he doesn't understand. He can't empathise or sympathise with Dean or give him a response. The counsellor fills in that gap for him.

Guess I should start thinking about Christmas. Not that I have much money to get the amount of presents I'd want to get the boys. I'll have to make do with what I have. I guess we'll be staying here at Bobby's for Christmas. I don't want to be struggling to find a new place, I'd rather have the boys settled for this time of year. We can look afterwards, not that I know where. Sioux Falls is a nice place, but I miss Kansas. I'll think about it properly once the New Year is in. Dean will be five in just under two months, he's growing up so fast. Next thing I know he'll be eighteen and moving out. Wish time would slow down just a little.

December 3rd 1983

Bobby got a call for a hunt and left early this morning. I heard him leave and he left a note for us. Up in Nebraska with someone called Bill, he left Bill's wife's phone number on the note. On our own again. He's been so welcoming and hasn't complained. A man I barely know has given up his spare room for a mother and two young boys, put his own food on the table for us. I couldn't be more grateful, though. A motel is no home for my boys.

Dean is busy drawing pictures while Sam is watching him with interest. Pictures for me, for Bobby, the counsellor, for Sam. I saw one labelled "for Daddy", but he hid that one pretty quick.

He drew a picture of his family for me. Me, John, him and Sam. John has little white angel wings and a yellow halo. Dean handed me the piece of paper and climbed up onto my knee, just hugging me. I kissed his head and held him close, stroking his hair as he stared at the floor.

"He's watching over you, sweetheart," I whispered, "He's so proud of you for being a brave boy and looking out for Sammy."

He didn't answer, instead he buried his head in my chest and stayed quiet, so I called up his counsellor, knowing it was her day off. Dean sat in the corner of the room talking to her quietly while I sat beside Sam on the floor and drew some pictures for him to keep him entertained. After a whole menagerie of different animal drawings, my little boy finally reached his chubby little arms up to me to be lifted. He's so affectionate. I'm pretty sure he'd be content with getting hugs all day if he had it his way.

Dean hit Sam. He's never done that before. I'd let Sam play with Dean's coloured pens on a blank piece of paper after he'd been staring at them for a little while. I was careful, of course. I didn't want to let Dean's pens get ruined, so I was watching Sam carefully in case he decided to be more rough with them.

"No, Sammy!" Dean whined when he got off the phone, "They're mine!"

"He's just playing, sweetheart. He's not going to keep them," I tried to reassure him, while Sam made wobbly lines on his piece of paper, giggling to himself. But then Sammy took interest in the pile of drawings nearby. Pen in hand, he crawled over to them to investigate.

"Mommy, make him stop!" Dean was getting so distressed. I wanted to stop Sam just to calm him down, but Sam wasn't doing any harm at all.

"Sammy just wants to look at your nice drawings, Dean. Why don't you tell him about them?"

"No! He's not allowed to look," Dean whimpered, taking out the drawing for Sam, "He can look at that one."

Sam crawled closer to the other pile regardless, patting the paper gently. Dean seemed to freak out completely. I don't think he meant to hurt Sammy, he just panicked. He pushed his brother out of the way and hit him across the face. Immediately I lifted Sam away from him, trying to calm him down. I had no choice but to send Dean to his room. I can hear him crying from here. I know he didn't mean it, but he can't hit his brother. Poor Sammy is so shaken up over it, he keeps getting unsettled and crying. He's starting to calm down, though. Reading to him and singing helps. He loves stories, and they're definitely making him feel better. I just hope Dean's alright.

Sammy's asleep now so I've talked to Dean. As soon as I got to his room, he ran at me with a huge hug, crying on me. He reached for Sam, asleep in my arms, and begged me to let him say sorry. Sam's allowed to use his special pens whenever he wants to. I just wish I could stop him getting so upset. He's a little boy, he's meant to be running around and making a mess. Not crying or sitting quietly.

December 4th 1983

Dean gave me a drawing from him and Sam. He said its to make me feel better about losing Daddy, and insisted that Sam helped a lot with the colouring and the grass. It was a drawing of a photo I'd managed to rescue, when Sam was only two months old, John and I had taken the boys out to the park for a picnic. John had his arms around my waist and was looking dotingly at Sammy, Dean sat on his knee hugging him tight. Dean had put so much effort into drawing it. He'd been in the bedroom almost the whole day working on it, it seemed. Sam enjoyed watching and helping for sure. When I'd gone to check on them one time, Dean was showing his brother the photo and telling him about John.

"Daddy loves you, Sammy. Do you remember he liked giving you lots of cuddles? He gave me cuddles too. He's the best Daddy in the world, right?" Dean's voice was soft as Sam focused his attention on the image before looking away and picking up a coloured pen. Dean helped his little brother hold the pen and guided his hand to help him draw.

Through everything, all that's happened, I'm so grateful to have my boys. It hasn't been easy on them, but they've been so brave. I couldn't be prouder.

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