She looked at her two sons. She could still see traces of the two little boys they had once been on their faces, except they had grown up—taller and stronger.
Then she looked at the man, the weathered man with a face full of stubble.
"Mary." John stood in the doorway, his voice hoarse.
Mary looked at him. "You came."
"It Comes."
The two of them stood there, separated by the distance of a room and thirty years of life and death.
Dean stood nearby, watching them without a word. Sam said nothing either.
After a long while, Mary spoke. "I'm not human anymore."
John nodded. "I know."
"I'll become a monster."
"I know."
"When that happens, you'll have to kill me."
John looked at her—at that grayish-white face, those dark red eyes. He shook his head bitterly, but when he met her gaze, he finally forced out a single word through trembling lips. "Okay."
Mary smiled. That face, that smile, was still just as it had been in his memories.
Dean turned and walked out of the side hall. Sam followed behind him. The two of them stood in the corridor, leaning against the wall in silence.
They both knew what the likely outcome would be, yet they still could not accept it.
Mary sat by the window, looking out at the dark red sky.
She had already waited here for three days. Dean and Sam kept watch at the door, one leaning against the wall and the other squatting on the ground. None of the three spoke.
Sam clutched an ancient book he had dug out of the guild library. Its cover had rotted away, its pages were yellowed, and its corners curled.
He had been flipping through it for an entire night.
Dean had a book in