"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!"

A green eyed, terrified child nodded at his stern, scared father. He took the screaming bundle he was handed and ran carefully to the front door. The fire felt hot on his back as he went down the stairs. There was only one thought in his mind.

Where is my mom?

Dean was halfway across the front yard when he finally turned around to look at his home. The corner of his house where he knew his brothers nursery was- where there were soft blue curtains turning to ash before his eyes - was on fire. Not a small creeping fire but a huge, consuming blaze. He stared at it, awestruck. It was then that he heard the heavy footsteps of his father thundering across the porch. His eyes fell expectantly toward the sound and his heart dropped to the ground. Even at such a young age, Dean understood the look on his fathers face and felt sharply the keen loss that rolled through him.

Johns face was a mix of emotions; fury, panic, sorrow, and terror played across his visage all at once. Tearing across the dew dappled grass, he scooped his sons into his arms, slowing for only a moment before continuing his flight into the night. He managed only a few yards more before the inferno tearing through the nursery exploded, shaking the house and ground around it, knocking the Winchester family flat.

Somewhere sleepy eyes awoke in the houses next door. Somewhere shocked eyes watched the flames and smoke lick the night sky and terrified fingers dialed 911. Somewhere else entirely eyes brimmed with tears that wouldn't fall, over a heart that was already broken, feeling the sharp stab of loss and the deep dread of loss yet to come.

Michael watched as the Winchester family home was consumed in flames that would not go out. It took a long time for emergency crews to finally quell the torrent. When they did there wasn't much left of woman it had come for. Her spirit had departed hours ago, ascending to the stars, to her heaven. Most passed through the void between life and death without ever knowing, moving seamlessly from a life of love and loss to perfect paradise. Mary Winchester was not one of those souls.

She knew too much of what went bump in the night. Although her memory had been wiped long ago, in death all things were laid bare before you. Mary watched the threads that had pulled at her life before she was even born. Cords that had bound her and John. She saw what was, what would be, and what could have been. Already racked with grief at passing alone through this nightmare, what was left of her heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces, scattering across her soul like the stars that light the galaxy. Almost like a sick joke, she watched a forgotten memory, where she had met her son. Not her then-son, her future son. He was all grown, strong and bold with the same beautiful eyes and devil-may-care smile. Even in the limbo state they met, this man who passed her then in years lived looked on her face with the love and devotion only a little boy could show his mother.

All she had wanted was a normal life, away from hunting and being hunted. For a few short years she had beguiled herself into believing that she had found it. She watched her oldest son grow and learn and held this infant that would never know her as he looked onto the world for the first time. But as the fate that awaited them rolled before her eyes, as the destiny they were meant to bare became plain to her, she wished she could do it over. She wished she could run as far and as fast as she could from this fairy tale she had built. Never existing was better than bearing the burden these boys; her sons, would have to bear.

Beyond it all, she was crushed to watch the grief of losing her and the discovery of the world she had tried so hard to hide destroy John. The patient, loving, devoted man that had always believed the best was possible gave way to doubt, to fear, and to anger. It ruled his life, hand in hand with a thirst for revenge that would never be satisfied. He would train these boys for a fate he didn't know of, playing the role he had always been destined to play.

Mary turned her face from the spectacle that rolled before her, heart sick to watch what would have always been. As the shades that played the roles of her life faded into smoke, light started to build around her. Slowly the soft white light grew and grew till it was nearly blinding, coming from every direction. Then, as quickly as it had started it began to fade. But instead of the nothingness that had been behind the scenes of her life, shapes started to emerge. Slowly building and taking sharp form as the light dimmed, Mary saw trees, felt wind, and was looking suddenly upon her backyard.

It seemed to be frozen in one of her favorite moments, with weather just at the tail end of fall. There was a gentle edge in the air that coaxed you to wear a sweater but still allowed you to enjoy the watery sunlight. The wind smelled like musty, sleeping things as leaves danced just above the grass. But in that cool air, she watched her husband, frozen to look just as he had when she left him and her sons. Dean may have been 7 and Sammy was about 3. They were playing catch.

Every part of her wanted to let go of everything she had known and learned; to be consumed in the joy and tranquility of this moment- forever. But a small part of her, somewhere deep in her mind- that same part that had been whispering all these years that her life was too good to be true- was whispering now.

This isn't real. It will never be real. You burned...

And this time she didn't ignore it. She clung to what she had seen, as tears rolled from her eyes. How much better- how much sweeter it would be to let go. What did it matter now? She was dead. Why not get lost in the fairy tale again? But the guilt and regret that she felt, even in death, for setting in motion the juggernaut that would rip the world apart was too strong. It fastened her to the memories she had as they ripped her apart, like white hot light burning through tissue paper.

The holes she felt searing through her soul started to appear in the world around her, burning away the images, leaving blackness behind. This went on for time beyond measure, other dream worlds trying to fill in when one burned up. Over and over the heavens of Mary Winchester seared in the stars. Later scientist would say that meteors had been smashed up in the asteroid belt; that is why sparks had danced in the distant heavens. But Michael knew.

And the pain the he felt was sharp - regret dousing every part of him. He had known, had seen that her path could go this way. That she may cling to her humanity, refusing the solace of heaven. The balming lies of the after life.

Then the tears fell; soft and slow.