Mary Winchester (mrswinchester) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-12-11 02:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | mary winchester |
Who: Mary Winchester
What: Mary sees the fire...and is NOT HAPPY
When: Right after bushes burst into flame
Where: The Winchester house
Status: DONE
Rating: Low
All in all, the day had been going pretty good for Mary Winchester. An apple pie was baking in the oven, which made the entire house smell like spice and home, she had a nice talk with Dean earlier in the day, and for later that night, when she and John both retired to the master bedroom, she intended to show him that she too could play the guitar. Not well, certainly, she had mostly taught herself by looking up websites, but Mary could now play a few Metallica songs well enough for the main melody to be discernible. She could only hope the effort would be enough to earn a kiss.
Smiling, she turned to get ingredients for supper out of the refrigerator and then she froze. Outside she could see nothing but a bright orange haze.
Fire
Fire that was close enough to her home to possibly burn it to the ground. Fire close enough to make her heart stop for just a moment, close enough for Dean and John to see when they were both till recovering from hell.
Not even bothering to close the refrigerator, Mary raced out of the house. She froze when she saw the bushes in front of the porch blazing, but he didn't hesitate to rush past the flames and down the stairs. She was searching for the outdoor faucet and garden hose she had been using to nurture the winter garden she had decided would have to work in this magical place. Hands shaking, she turned the faucet on. Mary aimed carefully, spraying the bush closest to the house, because she was determined to stop the fire.
This place was home. It was full to the bursting point of family and friend and friends who would soon be family. In this house, she felt safe again, and Mary didn't want to lose that...least of all to fire. The Winchester family had already lost far too much to fire.
The water spewed out of the hose, but it seemed to be making no headway on the flames. Then again, the fire oddly wasn't spreading to the house or even the grass. Nothing, it seemed, was burning except the bushes near the porch, and the one near the property line. A stunned look on her face, Mary fell to her knees, just staring into the flames. What was this, some sort of nightmare? She was close enough to feel the heat radiating from the flames, and to watch over her home. If she looked away for even a moment, the heat became warmth, which was very different entirely, and it reminded her of the time when he had been locked in the house, when the flames had been her protection, her strength.
Then she looked back again and the flames became the threat once more. Mary sat there, armed with her garden hose, staring at the fire for a long, long time, as though daring it to try to take what was now rightfully hers.