#thread:mary

Grease dripped from the paper bag onto the floor as Mary hurried in the door, but she didn’t make any move to clean it up. Not yet. The blonde was starving. 

Her stomach had been growling for hours, but where she’d wanted to sink her teeth into a juicy burger from the get-go, she figured her boys wouldn’t mind some food. Especially Dean. And so she had continued the trek back to the bunker, pausing only to grab the burgers --and a salad for Sam-- from the drive-in closest to her home for the time being. 

“I brought dinner,” she announced as soon as soon as she spotted her oldest son. Looking around the room and seeing no one else, she added in a confused tone of voice. “Where’s Sam?” 

Mary was getting used to seeing her youngest at the table with his nose in a book or eyes glued to a computer screen. Maybe he was in his bedroom. She’d go check later. 

Despite the gut-wrenching feeling plaguing her, she tried to keep her voice as even and calm as possible in her attempt to offer her son some comfort. Still, Mary couldn’t meet his eye as the words fell with a deliberate slowness from her lips. 

@deusexdawn

Mary glanced at her own reflection in the window of the car parked right outside the local diner. Pausing at the sight of her hair, she quickly flattened the part which had gotten messed up during the fight. The blonde hoped she didn’t smell like burning flesh anymore, but she couldn’t tell herself --not with the way the stench was branded in her brain and nose. It was hard to smell anything else and it would probably take several days for that to clear up. 

Rummaging through her little bag, she quickly found the small bottle of sample perfume and sprinkled it on eagerly. That should do the trick, she thought as she smiled at her reflection and nodded to herself in encouragement. She could do this. 

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the entrance of the diner and pushed open the door. It was now or never. Mary just hoped everything would turn out well. She’d been looking forward to this date for days now. And it wasn’t like she had many opportunities to do something normal. Mary really CRAVED normalcy. And John looked like a perfectly normal AND incredibly handsome guy at the same time. The blonde felt like the luckiest girl alive to be asked out by him. 

“Dean is strong. You both are, but I’ve seen what Michael can do...” 

Mary remained within the safety of the bunker as she calmly regarded the young redhead. If she was one of the many creatures they hunted, the warding would keep her out. And if not, she could walk right on in. That one step could tell a lot. And Mary would react accordingly. 

@tobeblamed ~ angst is good for the soul

Mary wouldn't tell him what she'd decided. The blonde didn't want her oldest son to live with any guilt when it had been her decision anyway. Glancing at him from the passenger seat, she tried to appear as neutral as possible.

"Why do you think there's more to the story? --There isn't." Except that she was going to be leaving her boys behind again. She made a deal with a devil once to save John, and now she'd done it to keep her boys safe.

Of course, Mary understood where he was coming from, but she was here now and Jack hadn’t known any better in that moment. The blonde had seen how much it pained him now, and considering the fact that they all had regarded him as family, this rift only made everyone else hurt, too. It was time to bury the hatchet and forgive the boy. 

Mary had really believed her underwear drawer to be the best place to hide her emergency gun. Apparently this wasn't the case, considering the fact it had only taken John a couple of months to find the weapon. To be fair, for a retiring huntress one gun wasn't a big deal. If anything, she felt pretty unsafe and lost without an extra machete and a decent hunter's knife on the side, but she was trying to live her much desired normal life as normal as possible.

"Oh..." Wanting more than anything for a hole to open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole, Mary racked her brain for an answer. Any answer --that wasn't the truth, of course.

"It's my dad's. He thought it would be safer for us to have one." They didn't really live in the best neighbourhood in town, but they didn't live in a crappy shack either. She could roll with this lie. But despite the fact that the blonde had been lying to people for most of her life, it always made her feel sick to her stomach when she had to lie to the man she loved. Would it ever get easier?