Just Not Yet
Disclaimer: SPN is owned by Eric Kripke and the CW, while Charmed is the late (and beloved!) Aaron Spelling, Constance M. Burge, and TNT’s thing. I have no profit, unless laughs and enjoyment counts. Though if Jensen and Jared, ever get lonely … I’d let them own me … Together. :-P
Author’s Note: This has a slight Spoiler for Charmed Again Part II, in fact if you are hardcore Charmed fans you should be able to notice a certain nun’s line :-D
Other than that, I don’t think so. Remember this is AU, don’t be mad if somethings don’t add up or stray from the show, especially Paige’s and the Winchester boys’ childhoods.
I am going to try and keep the timeline and the original story as close together as possible. Within reason.A/N
#2: So, this story is not compliant to season Four because I haven't watched it as of yet (blame it on college), so I DON'T know what's happened when Dean went back in time. Any similarities is co-winky-dinky. Season Three is barely being grasped. Getting a handle on it.
Another thing, I started this out on FF.net and decided to move it here just because (honestly I am thinking on moving some of the fics I have here over there too ... we shall see). So don't think I have abandoned the MANY WIPs (I have, if anything this should get me back on trak ... hopefully). As said in the parethesis, I wanna get back on track. I am hoping that editing this will continue my muse for this and my other SPN stories and Charmed stories, and hopefully the BtVS and Harry Potter ones.
That said, I truly hope you guys enjoy this!
“Oh come on John, how many times does one get to go to San Francisco?”
The young woman asked her husband of six months. She was currently trying to tug the tall, gruff ex-Marine down the crowded streets of the beautiful California city, however, he didn’t seem to be having any of that.
John Winchester really didn’t want to be here. Here a city of over-expressive loonies. Here a city where people liked to pass by you like they knew you and the crowds where too friendly for his own taste. Here a city, the only reason they were here in this city was because of his wife’s parents. His wife’s mother to be exact. She wouldn’t let the fact that he was a ‘poor boy who probably joined the Marines to escape trouble’ keep her from seeing her daughter. And he couldn’t deny his Mary anything. Nothing at all.
So he was here in San Francisco, a place that his blonde goddess would probably been able to go many times over if she had married someone like her father, instead of … well, instead of him, the poor boy. Here he was, while here grated on his nerves because he could never give her here or places like it. Here he was because it made her happy.
Slightly jaded brown eyes looked down into shining cornflower blue ones and they crinkled at the side in a sign of resignation and happiness at her exuberance. “Fine, fine. I’m coming. I’m coming.”
Famous last words, John thought a few hours later as he tried to catch his breath from being dragged-or it sure felt like it-all over the city. What was the point of years training under the government for all types of attacks, going through all types of drills, only to be brought down by a hyperactive blonde that could move faster and shoot out more orders than any general he knew? “Mary, honey. How about something to drink?” John breathed out as he tried discreetly to wipe the sweat from his brow. The heat was unbearably stuffy this August 2nd, and he was sure he was about to pass out for the both of them.
“Johnny, don’t tell me you’re tired already!”
Mary’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. She barely felt winded.
“Okay. I won’t.”
She let out a slight chuckle of amusement, her lips curling with amusement and love.
John Winchester was this odd bundle of drill sergeant, flirter, and sweetheart. Not to mention he had the sarcastic, potty mouth bit down. She could only hope that her children, especially her sons, turned out to be just like him. Well except the cursing. She had no idea what his obsession with the phrase ‘son of a bitch’ was but she would rather not have her children pick up on THAT trait. “Okay, then. How about, …we take a rest inside that …” Mary looked around for some place that would be nice and cool, and yet interesting. For some strange reason her eyes fell upon a this church that also seemed to be connected to an orphanage. “there!”
John gave his wife a skeptical look.
Why did she want to go there?
“Yeah, why not? We could give the children some of our goodies Johnny!
Doesn’t sound nice?”
Was all John could say. Would say.
He was a smart man. And smart men didn’t ask their wives, especially their one of six months, if the heat was getting to her.
Mary gave her husband a look. She knew exactly what he was thinking.
In fact, she was thinking it too. What kind of people just wandered around in an orphanage if they weren’t planning on adopting? But something … for the life of her she couldn’t pinpoint what. But something told her she had to go into the orphanage. Something told her it was vital for her to. And Mary was one to listen to ‘that something’, if she hadn’t been she would have never dated let alone married her Johnny.
“Of course I’m right, come on Johnny.”
With a sigh and a roll of his eyes at the back of her head, John obediently followed his wife in. Way more demanding than any general he ever had. Although, for her he’d have no problems dropping it.
No one could say that the Winchesters were overtly religious. In fact, John wasn’t one to believe in what he couldn’t see with his two eyes. Until the day God laid a million in front of him or the Devil introduced him(or her)self and shook his hands he was fine in staying in the firm nonbeliever side. Mary had grown up with a Christian background but that was more for show than any real sense of piety. However, the moment they stepped into the Church they were sure they were in the presence, somewhere in the building, of things that were of true goodness; in fact Mary even genuflected before a statue of her namesake and John couldn’t seem to stop twisting the hat he had removed from his head, in his hand. But what truly had their attention was the couple standing by a far off door talking to a young nun.
It had been the urgent and pleading sad tones of the woman that had their dragged their eyes at that direction. “ … can’t keep her. It wouldn’t be safe for our baby …. Some things just can’t be no matter how you want th-them, I, we …. c-could you ask them to name her something, a-any name that begins with a ‘P’? … family tradition.”
Because they were all the way by the entrance of the church, they hadn’t been able to hear everything but they seemed to have caught the vital parts, enough so that Mary’s heart could clench in empathy towards the woman that didn’t seem to be much older than she. Mary could not imagine what would cause the woman to have to give away her child but it was obvious that it was ripping her apart. And for some strange reason it was ripping her, Mary who hadn’t had any children yet, apart as well.
Feeling his wife’s distress John unconsciously placed one had on the small of her back, rubbing it, and used the other to pull her against him all the while unable to take his eyes off the scene. It wasn’t that much of an unusual scene. At least not to him. Where he came from many parents, usually a bit younger than those before him, had to give up their children in hopes that they would get a better life, hell at least a chance at a life. But something … something about this couple called to him. John may not be a great believer of intuition or precognition or déjà vu or whatever this was, but there were times. Many times that he listened to the little voice in his head; it had kept him alive and given him the courage to approach his Mary. This was one of those times.
As they continued to watch the sad scene: the man’s arms around the woman, the sad sympathy and understanding and … awe? on the nun’s face, the mother’s last kiss to her baby. As they continued to watch, Mary lost the tenuous hold she had on her emotions and the tears began to flow quickly and freely.
It was the choked sob that alerted Sam Wilder that there were other people in the room besides the woman he loved, his daughter, and the Sister.
His eyes went from the tallish, strong, gruff looking man to the lovely, gentle-looking blonde that he was gathered up in the other man’s arms. His eyes noticed how their own eyes didn’t seem to move from his Patty and the bundle of blue she was holding, well except for the man’s. The man’s eyes lifted and met his own leaving Sam to look into dependable, solemn, sad brown eyes. Leaving him to look into his soul and the grayed, yet youthful faced man was a bit shaken by what he was seeing. It was like looking into a looking glass and seeing himself. This man was just like him. Well, no not JUST like him or else they would have met before for it was near impossible not to know another in Sam’s line of work. However, this man was indeed like him. Loving the woman in their lives unconditionally. Strong and reliable. Slightly jaded men who believed in what was right and would fight for it. Sam saw that just like him, this man, if ever broken would shatter to millions of pieces. For the first time since after his little girl was born, for the first time since he realized all the things he would miss in her beautiful, blessed little life Sam felt elated. He felt like something was right. Which made sense, for look at who his daughter was. A Halliwell. This time, right now, these people … they were her destiny. There was no doubt in his mind that they were. “Patty,” he whispered softly so only she could hear. “turn towards the door and let them see her.”
Patricia Bennett nee Halliwell raised wet brown eyes at her husband. “W-what?”
“Just do it, honey. You’ll see.”
Frowning but trusting in him, for Sam had never yet to fail her, Patty turned slowly towards the door way of the church, positioning the little bundle in her arms so that they (whoever THEY were) by the door could see their daughter.
The two-lettered sigh was filled with so much emotion when it was said by two different (yet maybe not so different) women at the same exact time; the word reverberated throughout the church.
When Patty looked upon the couple she saw what her Sammy had seen, she saw destiny. She saw the future parents of her child. A mother just knew such things. Especially a mother like she.
When Mary laid eyes on the milky-complexion that was slightly covered by blue blanket and curly dark, dark hair her heart did the strangest thing; it grew and bursted and it recognized what belonged to it.
John stopped his wife just before she could walk out of his arms and towards the couple.
He had to clench his jaw so his knees wouldn’t buckle at the rawness he saw in those lovely, and usually serene blues. “Come on, darlin’, we’ve intruded enough.”
The word was sharp and was spat out quickly.
John said making sure his tone was the opposite of hers and that his voice didn’t tremble.
Mary whispered it this time.
“we can’t go. Johnny look. Look at her … she’s beautiful Johnny.
We …”Mary frowned slightly. ‘We’ what? “we … John, she’s ours.”
“No, she isn’t Mar.
Come on, your parents must be goin' nuts wondering where you are.”
“We can’t leave without her John. Surely you can see that.”
She wasn’t so sure what was so sure
about it but Mary knew, just knew, that that baby girl was meant to be hers. Just like she had known that John had been, still was.
“I ..” John faltered. He did.
Damn, this had to be one of the weirdest things that had ever happened to him but he did.
He did see it but he also felt that now wasn’t the time. It was even crazier than the feeling that the little girl was meant to be theirs. That she was theirs, just not yet. “Come on Mary.” He had to practically drag her out of the church, for she was struggling with him and calling him all sorts of names he would have never believed his Mary knew.
Maybe he was a bad influence on her. However, he had a feeling she was a worse one on him … Little girls that were meant to be theirs. That was a tad insane… almost sounded like destiny. Or that crock.
But the little voice in the back of his head said that it wasn’t crock and there were some times that John Winchester listened to that little voice. And currently it was telling him to be patient.
John knew how to wait.