Better Late Than Never....
Title: What Will Never Be
2 drabbles - prompt "Mary"
Characters: Dean and Mary
Spoilers: N/A
Rating: G
Warning: a bit sad and sentimental - *sniff* sorry!
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“Mary, Mary quite contrary how does your garden grow,” the little girl sang over and over in the sing-song falsetto of elementary school. Dean’s head swung automatically toward the singer.
The girl with the blonde ringlets was under the supervision of a brunette woman who smiled but kept a watchful glance. Dean smiled back and tried not to look like the creep hanging out in a park without a dog or a kid.
What was it with god-damn angels and parks? They seriously didn’t understand how creepy it was for two dudes to meet up next to a swing set.
* * *
Still waiting. He tried not to look at the girl but it was eerie hearing the girl singing his mother’s name over and over again when she looked like a pint-sized carbon copy of Mary Winchester. Get a grip Dean, he chastised himself silently. But the unwanted thought, was already there, if he had had a daughter - a normal human daughter (i.e. not an Amazon) would that daughter resemble his mother? Kids were some sort of cosmic roll of genetic dice which Dean no longer had any intention of taking, but for a moment he imagined what would never be.
****
2 drabbles - prompt "Mary"
Characters: Dean and Mary
Spoilers: N/A
Rating: G
Warning: a bit sad and sentimental - *sniff* sorry!
****
“Mary, Mary quite contrary how does your garden grow,” the little girl sang over and over in the sing-song falsetto of elementary school. Dean’s head swung automatically toward the singer.
The girl with the blonde ringlets was under the supervision of a brunette woman who smiled but kept a watchful glance. Dean smiled back and tried not to look like the creep hanging out in a park without a dog or a kid.
What was it with god-damn angels and parks? They seriously didn’t understand how creepy it was for two dudes to meet up next to a swing set.
* * *
Still waiting. He tried not to look at the girl but it was eerie hearing the girl singing his mother’s name over and over again when she looked like a pint-sized carbon copy of Mary Winchester. Get a grip Dean, he chastised himself silently. But the unwanted thought, was already there, if he had had a daughter - a normal human daughter (i.e. not an Amazon) would that daughter resemble his mother? Kids were some sort of cosmic roll of genetic dice which Dean no longer had any intention of taking, but for a moment he imagined what would never be.
****