Title: Her Eyes Were Golden
By: Bridget McKennitt
Character: Mary Winchester
Rating: PG
Word Count: 570
Summary: Mary loves her family. That hadn't changed since she became Azazel's favorite.
Contains: No warnings in as far I know that can't be extrapolated from the header itself.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Eric Kripke and other companies. They are used here without permission, and for entertainment purposes only. No challenge or infringement upon the copyright is intended, nor should any be inferred.


There was blood on her hands, so much so that she could barely see her flesh in the face of all that red. Mary hardly noticed the mutilated bodies draped at her feet, their glazed eyes wide in terror. Not that she cared; she was the one who caused those deaths in the first place.

"You did well. If I didn't know you were human, well. Only Alastair could surpass your skill."

Mary tore her gaze away from the blood (so red, already drying on her hands) to look at the man standing next to her with a casual smile on his face. The only thing that drew attention to him was the fact that his eyes shone yellow. She shrugged a shoulder and dropped her hands to her bulging stomach.

"This was nothing. If I'm done here, I am going to head home and tuck my son into bed."

The yellow eyed man snorted and turned away from Mary. "You are too fond of that child. He doesn't show any sign of psychic ability, unlike the one in your womb. Ah, that one. He's going to be a terror when he's born. The head of my armies."

Mary rubbed her stomach, a soft smile on her face. "Dean is a good boy. He'll make a great soldier one day."

"Whatever makes you happy, Mary. You know you're my favorite, and that little sprout inside of you is going to be my favorite as well. We'll be one big happy family." He touched her on the shoulder briefly before disappearing into the night.

Mary returned home to her two story house in Lawrence, Kansas. Back home to John, her husband, and Dean, her angel. Her hands were washed clean of the blood and her clothes smoldering in a trash can far away. She looked like a normal housewife and John didn't suspect a thing (she made sure of that before they married).

Dean ran towards her and she knelt down to wrap her arms around his tiny frame. "Mommy!"

She held her son close, as close as she could with her stomach protruding outward the way it did, and rubbed his back. "It's nearly your bed time, my angel. Why are you running around?"

"I didn't want to go to bed without saying night to Sammy." Dean pulled away just far enough so he could gently pat Mary's stomach. "When's Sammy gonna be ready to play?"

Mary laughed. "Soon, my angel. Soon. Then you'll be his completely." She knew Azazel wanted Dean dead, but she also knew how to persuade him. If Dean had to live under the thumb of her youngest, so be it. He would be alive. "Go on up to your room. I'll be there in a moment to tuck you in."

Dean hugged her one last time before running towards his bedroom. Mary stood back up slowly, one hand on the small of her back as she kneaded against the knot forming there. She may be Azazel's favorite in his game of pawns, but it was all up to her to keep her family together. If she had to do it with charm and a smile, she would. But she would equally use an iron fist and pain to keep their enemies at bay.

She loved her sons and her husband. Anyone else was just another casualty waiting to happen. That included the yellow eyed demon.



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