(Let's say John started hunting but quit after meeting you and was actually a good father to Sam and Dean)

Dean is seven and Sam is three. You aren't their biological mother but you might as well be since they both love you and call you 'Mommy', you weren't too fond of being called that by the kids because they weren't your kids but you eventually grew to love them. You were young but you were an intelligent and skilled hunter that is well known and respected by other hunters. You still hunt sometimes since you couldn't bring yourself to let go of the hunting life.

PRESENT: You feel the morning sun tickle your nose through the open curtain, you let out a groan and hide under the blanket. Suddenly you feel your husband, John, under your blanket, hugging you and burying his face into your breasts, which was a pervy little habit he had.

"Mmm…Morning…" He mumbles in your chest with his arms tightly wrapped around your waist.