Chapter Text
Out of everything, out of all of the terrifying, traumatizing, wonderful events of the past few days, the one detail that shocked her the most was how small he turned out to be.
The baby’s body was completely encased in blankets to stave off the cold January air as they stood on the curb of the hospital days after he first entered the world. She kept him cradled to her chest while her husband checked the structural soundness of the car seat for the fiftieth time. The baby was still as he continued to sleep off the traumatic experience of being born, his only consistant movements being the steady rise and fall of his torso against his mother’s chest.
He was so warm. His tufts of blonde hair, while admittedly hidden beneath a cap for most of his life so far, were soft and scented with something comforting and familiar and new all at once. She couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was.
Soon enough, her husband finally finished running his hands over the locks and buckles of the car seat, still not quite satisfied that it would protect his newborn son (especially now that he could see him, see how delicate and vulnerable he was) and motioned over to his wife to bring him over. Nurses held her elbows like escorts, mostly ignored by the new mother but not unappreciated.
They treated the sleeping infant as if he were made of the porcelain his skin appeared to be, gently lowering him and silently arguing over which position would be the most comfortable. The baby didn’t really care, that much was obvious. He hadn’t offered his new parents so much as another peek of his stunning eyes when they woke him with their fussing. No one noticed his foot slowly getting more and more pinched beneath the folds of blankets, making his eyebrows furrow. He was patient enough, giving them what he saw as ample time to alleviate his suffering. After an entire half a minute of waiting, he got fed up with such gross mistreatment and threw an arm above his head. He pushed his upper body further into his seat, mewling as he twisted the foot he couldn’t quite control yet as he fruitlessly attempted to free it. He frowned so deeply his parents gasped in alarm.
One of the nurses, an older woman, chuckled at the transfixed faces of the couple. She gently squeezed between the father and the car seat, wrapping a knowing hand around the offending foot and smoothly straightening it. A small smile crossed her face as the baby finally relaxed the scowl off his face.
“Now,” she began lightheartedly, “don’t be irritatin’ your little boy. He don’ mind if you fuss over him a little bit, but he gon’ get mad if you keep him from sleepin’!”
She meant it in jest, but the parents were far too exhausted to catch the joke.
“Yes, ma’am,” came the gruff voice of the father. The mother nodded, her face somehow managing to crease once more as she found yet another thing to worry about.
The nurse shook her head and let out an echoing laugh. She laughed even more when she caught the baby frowning at the noise and pressing his face into the stiff pillows of the seat.
“Now, honey,” she said with her drawl, “don’t you be sassin’ me.” She turned a warm smile to his parents. “I don’t usually do this, but I like you all. I like you all a lot. If you ever need me, here’s my number. Call it sometime. I’ve never been able to have my own, but I’ve been watching young’ins since you two were elbows deep in finger-paint.” She laughed again. “Mrs. Winchester, I’m not trying to stir up old, bad memories, but I know you’re alone out here, save for Johnny of course. I want you to know that you have someone to turn to when Dean here grows into his -- I reckon I’ll call it spunky -- personality.” She chuckled all-too-knowingly as her eyes glazed over in thought (Was that pity in them?). She pressed a piece of paper into Mary’s hands, her eyes suddenly friendly over the utter seriousness they carried.
Mary felt tears pricking her eyes, her breath catching as she whispered, “Thank you. Thank you, Ms. Mosley.”
The woman smiled, “Call me Missouri.”
Missouri, in true fashion, loaded the rest of the family into the car after kissing Mary’s cheek and patting John’s face. She disappeared back into the hospital without another word.
John had never driven so carefully in his life. Every bump rattled his teeth, every acceleration made his toes curl. At times, he would glance worriedly at Mary and the baby in the rearview mirror, reveling in the warm feeling that bloomed in him when he saw the love and adoration coating her face as she stroked their son’s round cheek with a crooked finger.
His mind wandered off for a moment. He thought about all of the wonderful things he was going to get to do with his son one day. All of the wonderful things his dad never did with him. He wanted to take him outside to play catch, and teach him how to drive clutch. He wanted to show him how to smooth talk and how to fix a broken engine. He wanted to show him how to do his math homework and to teach him about the war. He wanted him to respect his mother, and he wanted him to know how much that his father would give up for him.
He was pulled away from his thoughts when his wife murmured, “What if he doesn’t like me?”
John opened his mouth to guffaw, but it caught in his throat when he saw the naked fear in her eyes. He returned his gaze to the road crawling by in front of him, and with a voice full of a wisdom he didn’t know he had, said, “Mary, that boy would be a damn fool if he didn’t love you with every hair on his head. And my son ain’t a damn fool.”
It was quiet for a moment.
Mary let her eyes slide down to look at the baby again, gently running her fingers through his blond tufts-of-an-excuse for hair.
Tearfully, she whispered, “Thank you.”
John only nodded
They settled the baby into the nursery about twenty minutes later. They arranged and rearranged his blankets in the crib dozens of times, but truly never put him down long enough to get much use out of it. With hushed tones, they marveled at the beautiful spurt of new life they had created, snuggled side by side by side for the first time.
Dean didn’t mind how crowded it was. In fact, it made him feel better. This new world was cold and open and bright, so the warmth and closeness of his parents helped lull him back into the seemingly-eternal sleep of newborns.
Of course, time stopped for no one, not even the new family that drank in every second as if they were made of ambrosia. Soon enough, John had to take the Closed sign off of his mechanic shop and drag himself away to work.
Mary did try it on her own for a while, just her and Dean. She learned a lot, too. Sleeping is something to be appreciated and taken at every opportunity. Daily showering and cleaning were privileges of the past, and only when she was truly desperate and called Missouri did she ever feel the pleasures of shampoo and hot water.
She found a real friend in Missouri, a woman who honestly wanted to listen to her go on and on about her new baby while simultaneously cooking dinner, catching up a week’s worth of laundry, and making up yet another bottle. This woman had not been exaggerating about her skills; she was truly a gift from God.
A week after John had left, Mary found herself laying Dean down for a nap after his lunch. Missouri, using her disturbingly keen foresight to recognize that a moment was about to happen, slipped away into the living room of the Winchester home, full of strange Campbell-family heirlooms that no one could really (or wanted to) explain.
Mary pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek, smiling at the puffs of air that blew past his pink, parted lips. He blearily opened his eyes at the contact to see his mother’s face peering over him. He blinked once, then offered a toothless, sleepy grin.
Mary sucked in a breath at the smile. Oh, how she and John had to struggle for it. They would dance, sing, and twist their faces into nearly-unrecognizable shapes, rejoicing at every lazy giggle their baby gave them. But this one was different. This one was even more special. Dean didn’t smile because his mother amused him; he smiled because she was there.
She let out a breathless laugh, her entire body coursing with so many different emotions as the wonderment of what was happening crashed down on her. She was with John. She was safe from her past. She had the most beautiful baby and he smiled at her.
She understood it now. She understood how her own mother would fret and worry in a way she saw as so needless. She understood the depth and breadth of the love that only a mother could possess, and the fierce and violent protectiveness that came with it.
In almost a trance, she recalled an old lullaby her mother used to sing to her before bed. With a voice quivering like a branch in the breeze, she sang
“I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always,
As long as I’m living,
My baby you’ll be.”
Dean sighed contentedly and shifted toward the sound of his mother’s voice, still hopelessly asleep.
Mary bent down and kissed the blond head, inhaling deeply and taking in the sweet scent that rolled off of him before retiring to nap in the nearby rocking chair. She left one hand in the crib, beaming when she felt tiny, warm fingers curl around her own.
They slept like that for a while, one lost in the bliss of the moment and the other in the bliss of sleep.
Life wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t going to stay perfect. But right now, this was close enough.