Her body laid lifeless in the clearing. The clouds poured, feeling somehow broken of the loss of an angel. Her hair still floating in the cold wind, a crown in her beautiful head.
And she was dead, yet alive.
Sam cried that night, alone in his room. He'd lost a friend, a lover, even if that love wasn't reciprocated.
Crowley left then, went to hell, didn't want to come back. Seeing the Winchesters reminded him of his daughter. He wouldn't cry though. Lydia would've never wanted that.
Gabriel went over the clearing, bending over the girl's body, closing her eyes. Making her last seconds of consciousness feel happy. He placed in her memory the reminder of Dean and her, a story that he knew very well after all the times Lydia had repeated it, over and over.
Castiel remained there for the Winchesters, feeling sad once in a while. When she died, a part of Dean did too, and he was able to see that. Everyone did. No one had been able to bring the Winchesters to their knees but her. She was special.
Mary looked out the window every day at the same time, four in the afternoon. The time she'd died. She didn't know that, though a part of her could feel it. That lost bond. Her mother was gone. She cried silently To her face, remembered her mother, the gentle touch, her singsong voice. But even she knew she was gone. She always held the journal to her chest, even if she didn't know how to decipher the letters, she'd never learnt to read. Her mother's story was there, and it was all that mattered to her.
Dean cried. Day and night, felt lifeless. He even felt tempted to make a deal with a demon, bring her back, but he had promised not to. He remembered her in every way he could. In bed, when she smiled, when she closed her eyes, the way she spoke and walked. How she fixed him up, just to break him down again.
He'd never felt love before. Love was beautiful. Yet now he felt only broken.
He'd occasionally smile, looking at how alike Mary and her looked. He still held a piece of Lydia with him, and he'd take care of their daughter until his last breath.
Love for her, for Mary, was all that kept him going.
Love wasn't easy. Life wasn't always perfect. And people always left. But what matters the most is to remember those memories as if they were yesterday, be thankful for having them in our life, even if it was for the tiniest second. Because love was the force that moved everything.
Years later, Mary would graduate. Sam would get married, yet still remembering her every night. Dean would look like a happy father, and Crowley would still rule hell.
But nothing had changed, not really. Even if she was gone, she remained in their hearts, and they'd still hunt and drink. She'd shown them how to love and fight.
Because nothing can be done without love.
I love you, Winchester.
