Hearing Peter's response, Claire sagged with relief, only to find it wasn't only Mary now who was there, turning into Peter with a whimper when her senses caught up with her. They were outside the Winchester's, she'd seen Dean closeby, Peter was there, the demon was gone, they had really gotten free. Letting go of Mary entirely, she latched on to Peter, ignoring the protest of her body at all the tactile input.
And then she heard the recognizable tenor of her dad's voice and one arm shot out, grasping the fabric of Noah's jacket. She was running out of arms to hold on to people with, wanting to hug all of them at once.
"He was- it was-" It was hard to get the words out to explain, her throat feeling so dry and raw, even though by now it was unlikely that her throat was anything but healed. Hard to speak, but it was equally hard to try to explain without words, because even the brief flashes of memory of what had been done to her and Mary made her recoil. She had a message, she and Mary both did, but how could she find the words to say the rest?
Mary. It wasn't Peter's voice in his head he paid attention to as much as what he saw, racing toward his wife. John didn't even give more than a perfunctory nod to both men before pulling Mary to him, holding her with one arm as he searched her for injuries, the grip loose and then tight and then loose again, as if torn between holding too hard and hurting her if she was injured and not holding tight enough to keep her from slipping out of reach again.
"Are you all right?" he asked, eyes locked on hers, even as his fingers moved gently over her scalp, then her neck. "What happened, Mary?"