Warning: I've been crying while writing up the following scene. There's nothing funny about it. Mary's up in her room listening to her records. You can tell Dean's touched to have this window on his mother's youth, because he doesn't recoil at the ur-Disco streaming out of her Hi-Fi. He just wants to say goodbye to her before he shoves off and she's surprised he's leaving so soon. Dean says, "I just wanted to tell you, I don't care what your dad thinks. I like that John kid." Mary's enchanting as she blushes and laughingly expresses her appreciation. Dean looks down and back up at her. "Yeah, I think you two were meant to be." She smiles and he mutters, "Hell, I'm depending on it." When she questions him, he says, "Nothing," then asks her what John's like. She glows as she tells the son she doesn't know that his father is sweet and kind, and that despite the war and everything, he still believes in happily ever after. She is smitten and it suits her. "He's everything a hunter isn't...Uh...no offense," and she means that last part. Dean assures her none is taken and he means that too, because the hole where his self-esteem should go is deeper than the abyss. When she confesses that she knows John is going to propose to her in the next day or so, I am slain by the cuteness that is Mary Campbell. Can we keep her, Kripke? Please? She doesn't care if her father explodes. She'll run away if she has to, she just loves John, and.... Her face falls. I hope you have your tissues handy.
Dean is concerned. "And what?" Mary studies the air before her then turns her eyes on her son. "I want to get out. This job -- this life -- I hate it." She smiles at the future she doesn't recognize before her. "I want a family. I want to be safe. You know the worst thing I can think of - the very worst thing -- is for my children to be raised into this, like I was." She hardens. "Well, I won't let it happen." Dean presses his lips together 'til the color drains from them. His chin quivers. His nostrils flare. He swallows hard and fights back even the hint of tears. His voice is husky. "Yeah." He can no longer meet her eyes and wipes his mouth with a clenched fist. Mary sees his distress. "Hey, you okay?" Dean becomes the parent. "Yeah. No. I'm fine." She smiles. Dean gathers his courage. "Hey, uh, Mary, can I tell you something? Even if this sounds really weird, will you promise me that you will remember?" She's unnerved by his insistence. "Okay?" We see the wheels of Dean's mind spinning as he carefully chooses his words. Words that will help. Words that will protect. Words that will stop it. He has to stop it. "On November 2nd, 1983, don't get out of bed." The tears are close now. "No matter what you hear or what you see. Promise me you won't get out of bed." With all sincerity she makes a promise no mother worth having -- no mother she could look in the mirror every morning -- could ever keep. "Okay."