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Entry tags:
Mary, violence, strangers
Well, if everyone else is ficcing the premier, here's my little addition!
Episode tag, 12x01 (spoilers), gen, 366 words, Mary & Dean.
"Thanks, Mom." Dean said, looking up at her, sprawled on the ground. But after Dean's words, there was an awkward silence. Mary's hand still held the odd silvery blade, dripping blood, the enemy woman fallen at her feet. Dean and Cas picked themselves up, stared at her just a beat too long, then turned and busied themselves searching the body and vehicle.
Mary felt doubt creep in. Going for the kill had felt right at the time. The stranger had been holding a gun on her son. Shouldn't she have made the most of her opportunity?
Now that she had time to think, she wondered in hindsight if Dean and Cas had even been fighting to kill at all. It had happened so fast …
She'd seen the end of the fight, known them to be too slow. Her father had always taught her never to hesitate, that mercy was weakness, that it would get them all killed. She'd hated the lesson but she'd learned it.
Dean still hadn't said anything to her beyond thanks, not even, 'help me lift the body?' They'd heaved it (her) into the huge car without discussion.
When he finally did come over to her, it was to tell her that he'd found a phone in the car he could track her base with. They had to get to Sam, to save him, of course. Mary searched for any undertones to Dean's words—did he regret not being able to interrogate the woman who'd attacked them?—but his face, the face of her son, was still too much that of a stranger for her to read.
"I spent my life running from this. From hunting. And I got out. I never wanted this for you and Sam," she said. Never wanted these lives of kill or be killed, hands that would never wash clean. Her hands that would do what was necessary for her family. She'd make the same call again, every time.
"Mom, I get it, I do." She looked at her son's face, this man, this near-stranger's face, and wondered if he truly could.
It had always scared her, how far she would go for her family.
Episode tag, 12x01 (spoilers), gen, 366 words, Mary & Dean.
"Thanks, Mom." Dean said, looking up at her, sprawled on the ground. But after Dean's words, there was an awkward silence. Mary's hand still held the odd silvery blade, dripping blood, the enemy woman fallen at her feet. Dean and Cas picked themselves up, stared at her just a beat too long, then turned and busied themselves searching the body and vehicle.
Mary felt doubt creep in. Going for the kill had felt right at the time. The stranger had been holding a gun on her son. Shouldn't she have made the most of her opportunity?
Now that she had time to think, she wondered in hindsight if Dean and Cas had even been fighting to kill at all. It had happened so fast …
She'd seen the end of the fight, known them to be too slow. Her father had always taught her never to hesitate, that mercy was weakness, that it would get them all killed. She'd hated the lesson but she'd learned it.
Dean still hadn't said anything to her beyond thanks, not even, 'help me lift the body?' They'd heaved it (her) into the huge car without discussion.
When he finally did come over to her, it was to tell her that he'd found a phone in the car he could track her base with. They had to get to Sam, to save him, of course. Mary searched for any undertones to Dean's words—did he regret not being able to interrogate the woman who'd attacked them?—but his face, the face of her son, was still too much that of a stranger for her to read.
"I spent my life running from this. From hunting. And I got out. I never wanted this for you and Sam," she said. Never wanted these lives of kill or be killed, hands that would never wash clean. Her hands that would do what was necessary for her family. She'd make the same call again, every time.
"Mom, I get it, I do." She looked at her son's face, this man, this near-stranger's face, and wondered if he truly could.
It had always scared her, how far she would go for her family.