A/N: My first solo fic. Thanks to WaywardDaughter18 for the encouragement and her friendship. Without her, I would never have had the courage to do this.

For those of you haven't watched Season 12, SPOILER ALERT! This entire fic occurs with Season 12 as its backdrop but will veer off course for the sake of the story. Chapters may also include dialogue and situations straight from the show.

I don't own any of these characters, nor of course, the glorious show/phenomenon that is SUPERNATURAL.

Prologue

Dean glanced surreptitiously over at her again, imperceptibly shaking his head in wonder. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel of the car he'd just hotwired. His mind was in turmoil; he had no idea how he was supposed to be feeling about this. Ecstatic, troubled, fearful, awed, grateful….they all warred simultaneously in his consciousness. But none of those emotions was as strong as the overarching guilt, however misplaced, that suffused his heart.

She was here.

33 years.

33 years.

He glanced at her again, replaying the past few hours in his head…

"Dean, you gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you."

Amara's words had puzzled him initially and then, as he'd made his way back through the park, he'd found her- still wearing the same nightgown she'd worn the night she died. The encounter had been a little awkward, to say the least. Obviously she hadn't recognized him at first but, after some hurried explanations in which he'd managed to deliver a truncated life history in only a New York minute, he'd convinced her of his identity and she'd agreed to come with him. She'd willingly played lookout while he'd broken into the first car they'd come across on the main road and now, they were heading back to the Bunker and to Sam. His baby brother was in for the shock of his life.

He glanced at her yet again only to find her smiling softly at him. He grinned back at her and as he turned his eyes back to the road, a thought occurred to him. When he'd first approached her, she'd taken him down in the blink of an eye. Just as he'd recounted for her hours ago, he'd already witnessed firsthand the badass hunter she'd been when he'd traveled back to 1978. It was clear that her skills hadn't diminished one iota even though she'd given it all up to become a wife and mother.

Dean couldn't hide the proud grin that spread over his face.

33 years.

Mary Winchester was coming home.

Chapter 1

Dean opened the door and ushered his mother inside. He tried to deny how much seeing the recessed entrance to the Bunker filled his soul with relief and happiness. After all, he wasn't sentimental like Sam, of course, but he was fighting an overwhelmingly serious need to kiss the War Room floor as he descended from the balcony. It was a close thing.

"You live here with Sam?" Mary's eyes were full of curiosity as she followed him down the stairs.

They walked into the library and she let her hand run over the spines of the books in one of the bookshelves as she looked around.

"Yeah, when we're not on the road. It belonged to the Men of Letters," Dean replied.

"I thought they were a myth, an old hunter's story?" Mary asked.

"Not so much," Dean took off his jacket and tossed it carelessly over the back of a chair.

Mary pulled out a random book and flipped through it. It was a book on witches' spells and hexes that was written in a language she didn't recognize. Returning it to the shelf, she happened to look down and her eyes widened.

"Dean," the tone of Mary's voice immediately raised the hackles at the back of his neck, "There's blood over here."

Dean pulled out and cocked his gun, moving over to peer down at the pool of blood that had congealed on the library floor.

"Sammy? Cass?" he called.

Dean moved stealthily, looking back at Mary every so often.

"Mom," he said quietly, pulling out a hidden gun from beneath one of the long tables in the middle of the room. He handed it to her and said in a low voice, "Take this and stay here," before wandering back through the War Room towards the sleeping quarters.

Mary stared after him in exasperation.

"Sammy?" she heard him call down the hallway.

She checked the clip in the gun and then moved steadily into the depths of the library. There were no further signs of danger but then, something caught her eye as she turned intending to follow after Dean. She came closer to a shelf housing a number of modern looking paperbacks that looked ridiculously out of place amongst the other ancient texts. They were a series of books by one author, a man named Carver Edlund.

"Supernatural," she whispered to herself, as she selected the volume called 'Bloody Mary' to leaf through. She'd just come across her sons names' when the sound of approaching footsteps forced her to replace it. She raised her gun and hid behind a column as she waited. As the intruder moved past her, she moved quickly to confront them.

"Get on your knees," she shouted, gun pointing at the head of a man wearing a tan trench coat.

He narrowed his eyes at her, as he stalked towards her seemingly unconcerned that she was armed.

"Who are you?" he demanded, as Mary took a menacing step forward, "Where is Sam."

"Get your hands up, NOW" she shouted, intent on shooting him if he came any closer.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! It's okay! It's okay!" Dean came running into the room, his arms up defensively as he stood in front of the man.

Mary lowered the gun, still on alert as Dean continued.

"He's a friend, all right? Hey, Cass."

Cass' face nearly crumpled as he repeatedly said Dean's name while pulling her son in for a bear hug.

"You're alive?" he asked, his voice filed with relief.

"Yeah," Dean affirmed, a small smile on his lips as he returned the embrace.

"What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?" Cass' eyes had moistened as he stared disbelievingly at his friend.

"I'll tell you everything, later. Where's Sam, Cass?" Dean asked, placing his gun in his waistband.

"He's not here."

"Are you a hunter?" Mary interrupted, still wary. Her instincts were warning her that this person was not quite what he seemed. Something wasn't right. She thought she'd heard wrong when he and Dean said simultaneously, "No, I'm an angel." "He's an angel."

"What?" Mary's asked flatly, clearly skeptical.

"You know, wings? Harp?" Dean smirked, already anticipating the angel's reply.

"No, I don't have a harp!" said angel cast an annoyed side glance at Dean

"Angels are myths…" she whispered, uncertainly.

"Again, not so much. Mom, this is Castiel," Dean saw the doubt lingering in his mother's eyes but he ignored it, "Cass, this is Mary….Winchester."

"Your…your mother?"

Cass was shocked. He and the Winchester matriarch continued to stare at each other for a few moments before Dean stepped in.

"So, uh, where is Sam? He's not answering his phone and there's blood on the floor. What's going on, Cass?" he asked.

The angel's visage became unsettled.

"I don't know," Castiel replied, clearly troubled, "Sam and I came back here and there was a woman waiting for us. She blasted me away. I don't know who she was and I don't know what happened to Sam."

"Okay, well, the bunker's empty, so they've obviously left here." Dean suddenly became all business. Sure there was a lot of blood but not enough to be lethal. There was still a chance to get Sam back alive.

"You said woman. Not an angel, not a demon, a human?" Mary said agitatedly. From what she could gather, it was obvious that her youngest hadn't left the Bunker of his own free will and she knew that every minute they stood there was one more they didn't have to spare.

"When did this happen?" Dean asked, turning away from the Castiel to sit at the table. He pulled one of the nearby laptops towards him and started to type.

"Is that a…..a computer?" Mary's eyes widened.

"Yes," Dean answered simply, selecting the time stamp he was after.

"I don't trust them." Castiel narrowed his eyes as he stared at the rectangular menace.

Dean smiled to himself at his friend's words. "Got something," he announced, turning the screen towards the others, "An S.U.V. ran a red light a few blocks from here at 2:21 a.m. And there wasn't another car for 40 minutes."

"How did you do that?" Mary asked in awe.

"I hacked the traffic cams," Dean's voice held a hint of pride, "Welcome to the future."

"You think it's them?" Castiel's voice was cold.

"It's worth a shot."

Dean stood up, shutting down the computer intent on taking it with them. He told Cass to give them ten, and then directed his mother to follow him back to the sleeping quarters.

"I think you may need to….uh…" he gestured towards her and she looked down at herself.

"Yeah, I think you're right," she smiled at him as he pointed to a room further down the hall.

"We might have a few things that'll fit you," he told her, opening the door and turning on the light.

Mary stood in the doorway as he crossed to the large armoire that dominated the sparsely decorated room. He dug around inside and pulled out a few pairs of jeans, a wife-beater and some socks.

"They're all clean," he said, as she stepped forward to look them over.

He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, "Ummm...uhh….There's some ladies', uh, underthings, uh, in the drawer at the bottom. I'm sure you can figure it out."

Mary ducked her head to hide the grin that blossomed across her face. When she was able to reel it in, she looked up and asked as seriously as she could, "Why do you have a closet full of women's clothes, Dean?" Then a thought occurred to her, "Is it you or your brother that's shacking up with a girl?"

"Uh," Dean laughed uncomfortably, angered by his own self-consciousness, "Sam and I have, um, entertained a few lady friends over the years who've, uh, left various things behind."

Mary decided to take pity on her son and let him off the hook. For now.

"It's okay, Dean, I was only joking" she said, taking the jeans from him, "Gimme a minute and I'll find something."

"Yeah, okay."

The relief was obvious both in his tone and on his face as he fairly bolted for the door.

"And Dean?" Mary called after him.

"Yeah, uh, Mom?" He wasn't used to hearing that word come out of his mouth.

"At some point we're going to need to talk about your friend, Castiel."

He stared at her for a moment, trying to decipher her curious tone but then, he just nodded and closed the door behind him.

Dean waited for Mary in the hall, shaking his head in exasperation over his own discomfort. When she re-emerged, his mother had indeed managed to scrounge up an entire outfit, including a plaid over shirt with rolled up sleeves.

Dean smiled at her. Apparently plaid ran through Winchester veins. They turned to head back to Castiel when they heard the unmistakable sound coming from his room.

"Was that….was that a baby?" Mary asked, already heading towards the source.

Dean didn't answer. He jogged behind her and held her back before she could open the door. He put up a finger telling her to wait and she nodded. He slipped his gun from his waistband and silently counted to three, as she readied her stance.

On three, he kicked the door in and flipped on the light practically simultaneously. What he saw left him momentarily speechless. Before him, sitting on his bed and holding an infant, was Benny Lafitte.

"Benny?" Dean was in absolute shock, as his vampire friend grinned widely at him before cooing at the child who'd become unsettled by the noisy entrance.

"Yeah, Dean, it's me," he said, looking between Dean and the woman by his side.

"Dean?" Mary growled. Again her 'hunter senses' were on high alert. This was definitely no human.

Dean held a hand up to her and she quieted but readied herself.

"What are you doing here? How did you get out?" he asked, his eyes drifting down to look at the child.

"That's a fairly long story, ma friend, but I'll cut right to the chase 'cause he didn't give me much time." Benny bounced the baby on his lap and she let out a little squeal of delight.

"Who's he?" Dean asked, his voice sounding bewildered, "What are you talking about?"

"He asked me to bring her back to you," Benny said simply, standing up slowly from the bed and cautiously approaching the other man. He'd seen that look in the woman's eyes before. She was as much of a predator as he was.

"This is your daughter, Dean. I brought you Emma."