Work Header


Work Text:

The last thing Dean could remember was getting his face beaten to a swollen, bloody pulp as the Earth swallowed his brother. Now, he was in Chuck’s dark, paper-filled house and very confused. Did he die? Was he in Heaven? Limbo? Hell? What was going on?

He didn’t feel sore and upon feeling his face, there was no damage done that he could assess. Confused, he found he was alone, but spoke: “Is there anyone there?” His voice was raspy, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long, long time. Aside from that, he was fine; no harm done. “Sammy. . . ? Bobby…? Cas? Anyone?”

Dean swallowed thickly. There was no response, but he heard the creak of a door opening on old hinges. Tensing, not knowing what he would find upon turning around, Dean looked behind himself. His guard melted at the visage of his mother, a replica of her from one of his memories. Her blonde hair was pulled back, face natural with a faint stain of color on her lips and a quick scratch of eyeliner around her eyes. She was in a black wife beater, plaid work shirt over it with the buttons undone. Jeans. Boots. He remembered sitting in her lap and she smelled like clean laundry, lavender, and simply Mommy.

“Mom?” his voice wavered. He knew he was weak when it came to his family and that this vision of his beautiful mother could be a trick, a demon, something bad and up to no good. But he’d wait and see. He reminded himself to stay aware and alert.

“No, Dean,” she smiled sweetly, warm. “I’m God.”

Dean couldn’t do anything but snort derisively. There were so many things he wanted to ask and do and say to God (many of them not so holy in nature), but all that came out was: “Why the Hell would you appear to me as my mother?”

“A mother is God in the eyes of a child.” She paused, explaining, “I thought it was appropriate.” She sat down on the threadbare couch and motioned for Dean to join her. With reluctance, he took the few steps over to the sofa and lowered himself beside her. “So. Dean.” She looked at him, eyes bright and brilliant, filled with pride and love. It freaked Dean out a little bit to say the least, made him feel uncomfortable. God was sitting there, peering through his mother’s eyes. Or at least, something that said it was God. “Tell me; if you had one wish, what would it be? If you could have anything in the world?”

“You’d like to know that, wouldn’t you?” his mind raced with what creatures this. . . thing could be. At the mention of the word ‘wish’, he wondered if it was a djin or possibly a trickster. Hell, it could even be an Angel or a Demon. Dean hadn’t a clue and was wary to answer - what if his response was exploded to life in an instant? What if it was irreversible? He wasn’t going to chance that.

“It’s why I asked.” The warm smile stayed on her face. Looking at her, Dean knew what he would wish for. His heart ached for it: one more day with his mother. “I understand your reluctance, Dean. But I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m granting you a wish for all your help - Sam, too. And don’t worry about him. He’s fine, or will be very soon.”

“Where is Sammy?” Dean asked curiously, suspicious.

“Don’t concern yourself with that,” she waved the topic away with her hand as if swatting at a petulant fly. “Like I said, he’ll be fine and taken care of. I’ll be seeing to his wish after I see to yours. Speaking of which, I know what it is you want. You have to say it before I can grant it.”

“What, you’re a mind reader?”

“I’m God. I’m a part of everything, Dean. I can do anything. So make your wish - wish for your mother. We both know it’s what you want, no doubt. Tell me I’m wrong.” Her eyes flashed with a challenge she obviously knew would not be taken. Dean felt his features collapse a little with concern. It was so tempting. . . To accept that this was the Almighty Lord sitting before him and that with the blink of an eye, He could give Dean his mother for a day.

“What’s the catch?” Dean asked.

“No catch, Dean. Listen to what I am saying. This is my gift to you. For your efforts, your triumphs, your compensation for all that you’ve lost, all that I’ve regrettably had to take. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity that will only be presented to you once. Do you really want to pass it up?”

Dean could physically feel his resolve breaking inside of him. He was tired. So tired of having his guard up all of the time, of being wary and scared. He wanted something good to happen for once without thinking it was too good to last (and to always be proven right). He’d always followed his instincts, something his father had taught him long ago. Thinking about the situation presented to him, feeling it with his gut reactions, Dean could feel no ill will. He couldn’t sense any bad mojo, no hoo doo, nothing evil. He felt like it was an easy course of action, to just say yes.

“I hope I won’t regret this,” Dean muttered quietly to himself, at which his mother smiled happily.

“You won’t,” she replied to him softly, facial expression urging him to make his wish.

He blew out a large gust of air. “I wish. . . That I had one more day with my mother.”

With a beaming smile on her lips, she kissed his forehead and said, “Wish granted.”