momchester finally made a bb account

[minifridge]

You know they're just icons, right? [Mary brushes her hair out of her eyes and stares unimpressed into the... wherever it is she's looking.] There's really no need to obsess.

[She rolls her eyes and scoffs in an... incredibly teenage way.]

I don't even know why you made this account. It's not like there's a point. [squaring her shoulders determinedly, self-consciously aware that she looks a little silly.] My life will be way too boring for you to write anything about and that's just fine with me. Got it?

Comments

[failedparenting]

[He starts when she says the name. Dean? She couldn't really mean their Dean. There's no way she could have met him.

Tentatively, he answers.]

Depends. What's he look like?

[Not that he honestly expects a description of their son, but fuck, he's curious now.]

[minifridge]

[She bites her lip tersely, not particularly wanting to recall him. The unhappiness shows on her face and in the way she tenses, stiffening in that way she did when something was deeply wrong but she refused to say what.]

Um... he's about your height, wears a leather jacket, brown hair... I think... no, I don't know his eyes but...

[Fiddling with her charm bracelet absently.]

Oh, and he had this necklace. [Shrug.] I don't know if Dean Van Halen was his real name- you know hunters.

[She softens a little, face falling slightly as she recalls the last conversation they had, how choked up he got, how cryptic in giving her a warning about a night years down the line.]

But I don't think he would have lied to me.

[failedparenting]

[John is stunned. Plain fucking 100% stunned. Mary's met their son, at least five years before he was even an idea.

How the hell...?

He tries not to let the shock show on his face, but his sucess is dubious. There are some emotions even he can't hide completely.]

Yeah, I know him.

[minifridge]

[Mary is a little curious now- he's definitely surprised, that much is obvious, but maybe it's just the small-world kind of surprise. Maybe Dean is his brother or cousin or something, but... if he really does know her in the future, why would it be so shocking that someone he knows knows her?

Curious.]

Yeah? Are you two related, or...?

[failedparenting]

[Excuse John's mild blue screen of death, he's still processing this new information. How did Dean meet his mother? He doesn't know of anything that has the power to fuck with time like that. Well, maybe a trickster, but that's stretching it.

He's so wrapped in his thoughts, he doesn't hear her question.]

Sorry, what?

[minifridge]

[Stare.]

Are you two related?

[failedparenting]

Oh, yeah. My brother.

[As long as he's avoiding every facet of the truth...]

[minifridge]

Huh. [She studies his face quizzically.] Yeah, I could see it.

[Come to think of it- the longer and harder she looks at him, the more she's sure she's met him before.]

[failedparenting]

[John doesn't really notice that she's studying him any harder. Just looking for the family resemblance, he assumes. Instead, he's preoccupied with this whole Dean deal. He wants to question her, but any hunter would catch on instantly.

Light conversation, then. Well, as light as it can get after she's accused him of being a stalker. He keeps his tone light, just mildly interested.]

So, how did you meet him?

[minifridge]

[That snaps her out of studying him altogether. She immediately looks away, down to the floor, and shifts uncomfortably, hand gripping the edge of the counter.]

We kind of worked a case together.

[failedparenting]

[His brow furrows. They even worked a damn case?]

Really. What were you after?

[He doesn't believe it. Or rather, he won't believe it.]

[minifridge]

You'll never believe me.

[One of, honestly, the rarest critters from her time. She's trying valiantly to keep the bald unhappiness off her face, or the little flinch when she says the D word.]

It was a demon.

[failedparenting]

A demon. Really.

[He is shocked, but for reasons Mary wouldn't understand. God, maybe that's the link. If it was the demon, that could explain Dean being there (not how, that's still a grand clusterfuck of a mystery, but it's a reason).

Maybe it's how it got her scent.]

Demons are pretty damn rare. You sure that's what it was?

[He needs to be sure.]

[minifridge]

[She makes a choked sound that was meant to be a scoff or laugh.]

Yeah, I'm pretty sure.

[...Okay, taking it back a notch. She's dealing with their deaths.

Really.]

[failedparenting]

How, is what I'm asking. Most cases of demon possession just turn out to be pissed off ghosts.

[He's losing his grip on the conversational tone. Reel it in, she'll get suspicious.]

[minifridge]

I saw its eyes, okay?!

[Dealing. So well.]

[failedparenting]

[Of all the possible reactions, sudden anger was the last John would expect. Reflexively, he throws his hands up and backs off a bit.]

Woah, it was just a question.

[But the thing is, she's obviously distressed. Another piece to this god-awful puzzle.]

You okay?

[minifridge]

Yeah, I'm fine.

[She doesn't usually lie about something like this. When she's far from okay, she damn well says so and gets the hell out of Dodge. It'd have to be something trivial and stupid for her to do the casual act.

Or really, really serious. At a certain point, she can't deal with how not-okay she is, so she just stops letting anyone in. John might remember it from back in the old days. Those first few months after her parents died that were tense and quiet, strained in ways she never did explain as she pushed him away and put up walls, had secret conversations with strange relatives and spent long minutes staring out into space, thinking hard. The days when every conversation ended with "I'm fine." It was a unique kind of repressed frailty that she never really showed again.]

We worked a case with a demon and eventually found it. But the son of a bitch got away.

[How many times did you hear her swear when she was this young?]

[failedparenting]

[Oh yeah, John sees right through her act. In all the years they were together, an "I'm fine" from Mary was a sure sign that something was seriously wrong. Twice, it happened, when her parents died, and those few tense days before he moved out.

Something bad happened with that demon, and it's looking more and more likely that John's suspicions about it's true nature are right. Though he doesn't want to pry too hard and hurt her worse, he needs to know what it did. It may tell him exactly what he needs.]

What happened, Mary?

[minifridge]

[For a moment, it almost looks like she's not going to answer. Her eyes shut, lips pressing together. Steeling herself. Shutting off a little more- just to survive a few more minutes. Thinking about that night hurts so much.

Then Mary opens her eyes, and gives him a blank look.]

It didn't go well. It was stronger than we thought.

[failedparenting]

What did it do.

[The way she's reacting now, shutting down and retreating, he's seen it only one other time. He remembers it clearly, because he was sure she was going to leave him in the fallout of her parents...

Oh hell, that would explain so much.]

[minifridge]

Well, after we got it away from its first target, your brother managed to overreact just enough to get its attention.

[So much bitterness.]

Like I said- it didn't go well.

[But like hell she's telling a living soul about her deal. No.]

[failedparenting]

Of course he did.

[All pretense of this being just a conversation is gone now. John is straight up digging for answers now, and he's starting to get agitated.]

"It didn't go well" tells me shit.

[minifridge]

[Well tough titties, John, because that pinch you're feeling is your own earlier cryptic weirdness biting you in the ass.]

You don't get "I can't tell you", do you? [So mature yes.] Don't worry, Dean got out fine.

[This kind of meanness is sorely uncharacteristic. She feels vicious, angry- angry at Dean, who she hasn't been able to speak to anybody about except a few relatives who asked her how it happened, but they couldn't know the whole story. It's that pretty jerk's fault her parents are dead and even talking about it now has the memory and resentment rising like bile.]

...Sir.

[failedparenting]

[He barely stops himself from throwing back some assholish remark about her being too young and naive to know when something's bad enough to warn people. Bitching and anger will get him nowhere. For now, though, he has to settle for hunches. He knows when Mary makes a decision about something she sticks by it, and clearly she's decided to stay quiet about this demon.]

Fine, I get it, you won't talk. It's dangerous, though, keeping that kind of info to yourself. Other hunters could need it.

[The throwaway sir has him unsettled. There was something in the blatant sarcasm, the "I'm right, but whatever you say" eye roll. It's so reminiscent of the boys growing up, he suddenly feels like "Dad" again, and by extension even more of a creep.]

And don't call me that.