WHERE The Overlook Hotel. WHEN 07/10, near evening. WHAT The worst of guilt trips, with cameos by Azazel, and Jack and John Winchester.
I'd start running. WARNINGS A lot of SPN bullshit, a boatload of parental guilt (and spoilers for Mary's death), demons, and boys without their souls.
Mary Winchester was not a cook. She knew that her (somehow) famed Winchester Surprise casserole wouldn't win any health-food awards any time soon; nutritionists would have recoiled at the sights of the casserole and a certain British chef would in less than ten words, put down her distinct lack of cooking skills. But with Castiel here, she wanted to have a sit down meal with her boys, Adam - John's youngest son and Michael's vessel, and one of those things was just something that Mary had to learn to swallow with time - and also Alec, who at times, behaved like a smaller and skinnier carbon copy of her oldest son. It was only creepy if she stood still long enough to think about it, but she'd also thrown it on the 'universe has a funny sense of humor' pile before too long. Sometimes, things just [...] were.
But Winchester Surprise was a miraculous concoction of equal quantities of pork, beef and American cheese, and Fritos to garnish - and unfortunately tripled, to account for everyone about to sit down at the table in about [...] two hours. "Yes, I'm cooking." Her phone was awkwardly nestled between her shoulder and chin as she reached for a paper bag sitting on the checkout lane. "Can you invite Sam? Yes, I have pie. Beer, yes hot sau- I'll be home in ten minutes, love you."
Mary grinned at the cashier as she put her phone away and reached out for the second paper bag. "Thanks." Awkwardly carrying both bags in both arms, she left the neon glare of the grocery store behind her and headed for the darkening forest, towards home. But then something small, perhaps with red fur, zipped through the bushes, and her head turned to follow the noise. It was all the Hotel needed to pull her right to it.
Mary's lips flattened into a tight line, bags still in her arms, and staring up at the building's still impressive facade. "No." She spat it out like a mother admonishing an unruly child. A bag - with the meat and the beer - dropped to the ground, and she pulled her phone out of her pocket, and waited for her son to pick up. "Dean, I need you to pick me up." Her blonde curls shook wildly along with her head. "I got turned around in the forest."
A blood-curling scream pierced through the hotel, and Mary froze. The last bag in her arms dropped to her feet, and a bottle of hot sauce quietly shattered. Dean screamed into the phone, asking her to just stay where she was and mom, just don't go inside - and she could see a black outline of Jack's body standing in the window, just right there [...] And Mary squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn't real. Definitely couldn't be real, not even as he was frantically tapping on the glass, crying, screaming about he didn't like it here and please, Mary please - "Please don't do this."
Flashes, gunshots. Yelling out, a deep and gravely voice that she missed so very much - "I said no." She blindly reached for a bag, hoisted it to her chest and then simply turned away. Easy. All she needed to do was just take a step, then another, and just keep walking. It was easy. Anyone could do it. Hot sauce dripped through the paper, onto her hands, and then it all fell apart in her hands and crashed to the ground.
"You want a piece of me?" Her voice was low, dangerous. A light in the hotel blinked on, and the front door swung open. An wide-open invitation, and Mary Winchester was pissed. Fingers pushed through the Enochian brass knuckles, and Mary stepped inside, none too surprised that the door immediately swung closed.
"WELL HELLO MARY!" Yellow eyes twirled playfully in the dark. "It really wasn't a party without a Winchester. But the cherry on the cake is really [...]" A finger pointed at Mary ."You."
She stepped closer. A step, then another, closer to the shadowy figure with yellow eyes. "All that guilt you've carried with you for miles, through the years and even into
another world." Her heels thudded against the floor with every step she took. Step after step. It was all it took as her hands tightened into fists around the brass knuckles. "You sold your son for a decade's worth of bliss with your husband. You almost abandoned them for a bunch of strangers. Twice. You are a horrible mother." Menacing laughter filled the lobby. But FTOOM! Mary's knuckles hit his jaw, and the figure staggered backwards, stunned. "Wait you [...] you can't do that." Mary's eyebrows raised slowly. Was that a challenge?
"Watch me, asshole."FTOOM!FTOOM!
"LEAVE HIM ALONE." The ground underneath her feet rumbled with a force that she'd only seen in [...] Her head turned away from the shivering figure in front of her, but she only needed a single glance to see who it was.
Azazel flashed a bloody grin. "I'd start running."
A two year old with powers and on one hell of a temper tantrum stepped forth from the darkness. Plaster over her head crackled, peeled and fell down like feathers caught in a light breeze. Boards underneath her feet creaked and found themselves warped upwards by the force of a Nephilim without a soul.
Her feet reacted, and made a dash for the hallway. Around her, walls crumbled, light bulbs exploded and doors swung outwards, and Mary finally hit a wall. Frustration kicked in, and manage to rise over the fear. After a frantic kick at the wall, Mary forced herself to take a deep breath and turn around, with her hands raised. "Jack, stop! Please."
"Jack, calm down. Please."
Azazel's voice whispered in her ear, and a chill rose up her neck. You really thought you could start over with the likes of him? With a Nephilim? "He's just a boy. The sweetest, kindest boy who did something terrible."
His eyes glowed golden in the darkness. "NICK DESERVED IT. HE WAS A BAD PERSON." It was a childish bellow, but Mary still startled at the sound.
He doesn't have a soul, Mary Winchester. He doesn't care. You remember what it's like. Everything is a lot easier when you don't have those pesky emotions to cloud you. Sammy knows it. Jack knows it. You know it. But around them, something started to crack. He's just taking after his mommy and his three dads.
Mary's lower lip trembled, but she bit it down. "I know you killed me, and I know you're going to try to bring me back, because you're a sweet boy. And I know Sam and Dean-" Mary swallowed hard. "They won't forgive you. Not right away, and maybe never." Her back was pressed flat against the wall as Jack stepped closer, close enough that she could smell him. "But it's okay, Jack. Because I'll forgive you. I know I'm in heaven, and [...]" Mary looked away, closed her eyes. "With John. Happy and at peace." Her hands fumbled as she tried to find Jack's, but then gave it a gentle squeeze.
"You're one of my boys, Jack. Soul or no soul."
But then she grasped at thin air, and the front door unlocked. Mary stepped over warped floorboards, kicked at the odd door, and before opening up the front door, flipped the hotel off. "Fuck you."