sirenspull | † ONE [voice] - backdated to Friday morning

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† ONE [voice] - backdated to Friday morning

[ Hello, world. Meet new arrival, Sam Winchester. But you might not know that it's him, because he's not showing his face yet, and: ]

This is Agent Murdock. [ He clears his throat, pausing a moment. ] If anyone's out there, and can hear me, or needs help... just let me know. I'm sort of at a loss, here, and I'd like some information. If this thing is even working, that is.

[ He's confident in his tech abilities, but something's definitely up with his phone. ]

... Thanks.

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[ He was warned that their parents were here, but, still, it's a real blow when John appears over the feed. And he finally switches it over to video, cautiously, wearing an expression of torn emotions. ]

... Dad?

[ He says it weakly, taking deep, steadying breaths. It had been years since he'd seen their father, and even then, it was just for seconds. The last time he'd seen John alive? ... Longer. ]

Yeah, it's me.

[John's glad, obviously, to see him, but also wary. Does he have his memories from before he disappeared? It doesn't seem so, but Sam was pretty off</> when he left. There's no telling.]

What's the last thing you remember?

I was in a motel room. [ He doesn't say 'with Dean,' or 'working a job,' because neither are true. ] Back home.

So, you don't remember anything?

[He nods to himself. He's not sure if that's good or not. Mary won't be happy, at least.]

You over your demon blood addiction?

[Hi, just casually dropping that bomb. Yeah he knows, which is why he sound so crusty when he asks. ]

John.

[Just. Glaring.]

There are some things we do not share over a public network feed. This is one of them.

'Scuse me, was I talking to you Bridezilla?

You're already the worst husband of the year. Don't add father to the list by being a douchebag.

[Yes, voice. Which is how you know you seriously fucked up, John.]

John Eric Winchester. [Seriously fucked up.] If I ever have to explain the point of filters to you again.

[God fucking dammit. If he just fucked his last chance over...

At least he looks suitably ashamed.]

I'm sorry. Wasn't thinking.

[Nope. Public.]

Sorry, can you repeat that? Where Sam can hear you?

[Be content in the knowledge, Mary, that you are the only person in existence to have the peer to make him do this.]

I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking.

[Sob.]

I know.

[In the tone of "we'll talk about this later."]

This is my fault. I should be used to it by now.

[Wow, the hell? It was a little slip up but she-

No, no. He has to be "good". She needs to win, or he'll just lose her again. It hurts, but he shoves down the anger and rolls over.]

No, it's not your fault. It's all me.

Oh please, John, don't give me that-

[There's static cutting off Mary's words and suddenly one (1) archangel is in possession of her NV.]

Haven't the two of you grown tired of fighting with each other?

[The hell?]

Give her back the NV.

[Quieter, since she's farther away, but obviously irritated.]

Michael, give it back. That isn't-

[It's suddenly like someone hit the mute button on the television. They'll keep going but no more sounds are making it passed their lips, from either of them.]

Enough. Your wife is very tired, John. [Click. A few seconds after the feed is ended they'll both be able to speak and if John's tries to reach either of them via NV he'll find they both go straight to voicemail.]

-! [Wtf Michael, you took her voice.

One her little Star Trek communicator flips shut in his hand, Michael looks up at his face, mutely outraged that he's being so angelic about this. Her lips keep working, hilariously, and she's clearly mouthing You better give it back, missy.

Though honestly, it's edged with enough desperation, pain, and haggard, clawing-at-the-walls exhaustion to be kind of pathetic.]

[Mary's NV disappears from out of Michael's hand but it doesn't reappear anywhere she'll be able to find it.]

You need sleep, Mary. I can ensure that your dreams will be nothing but peaceful.

[Mary backs off a step, still doing her irrational damnedest to yell at the angel. Not being able to say anything may actually be amping her up more-

-or maybe it's that feeling she has of not being listened to. It's not like John ever does. Even when she needs him most, even when she's desperate and falling all the time he still doesn't care, and now her best friend took her voice away from her, and she can't really see past how angry she is.]

[Michael doesn't advance on the angry woman yet, the only friend who's seen her at her most vulnerable. Nor does the angel take the easy way out of this and try to force sleep on Mary. Instead she watches those soundless lips form words, knowing exactly what words are being said.]

Please, let me care for you. I know you're angry, frustrated and weary and not just from what happened on those hunting grounds. Every day in this world is a struggle - seeing your children all grown up, how John has changed over these years, losing them and getting them back only to realize that they don't remember, fearing for their safety but hoping...hoping that they'd come for you, that they'd save you and everything would just be okay. You look into their eyes and you see them worry for you, see that they'd move Heaven and Hell to keep you safe if they could but know that you're their mother and you should be the one protecting them from the horrors of the world.

[She steps closer now, a hand extended to brush fingers gently over Mary's cheek.] You feel as if you're a mother to everyone you speak to, someone who will worry about the strangers not yet your friend and it's as if you're carrying that all on your own.

Angels are watching over you, Mary. And it's time to sleep. [There's a gentle and reassuring smile on Michael's face, probably the first one she's smiled in a long time.]

Edited 2012-07-07 10:06 (UTC)

[It's maybe... three seconds after "every day in this world is a struggle" that it starts hitting her. The instant he says John's name, she sucks in a harsh breath that rattles something terrible inside her. It's true- all of it, all of it, the things nobody ever asks and she isn't allowed to talk about anymore, because it's been almost a year and shouldn't she be over it. The things that claw at her every day and every night and will never stop haunting. The truths she didn't know were hurting and oh god, Michael's touch is the only thing in the world she needs at the moment it happens.

By the time the angel's done talking, Mary has tears pouring down her cheeks and she's crying harder than she's cried in years. She holds onto Michael's shoulders, hands balling up fistfuls of her shirt in an astonishingly childish gesture, and all she can say is to mouth one thing.

I miss them. I miss them, she tries to say, I miss them. John and Dean and Sam. Because they've all been here, and she's had them all, and she has them now- but her family, the man she married, the children she still pines for like a missing limb? She hasn't seen them in a long, long time.

Someone is finally watching over her. And by god, she just wants someone to understand.]

[For a moment all Michael does is wrap her arms around Mary tightly as if the woman will slip through her grasp if she lets go even a little bit. She lets the silent crying and wordless confessions go on for a minute before finally giving Mary her voice back. It's time for all of it to be let out into the universe for all to see and hear - all of the crap that Mary's been thrown into with the chaos this world brings.

One hand comes up to brush comfortingly over that dirty-blond head as she tucks her chin solidly against the woman's shoulder. While her current vessel appears small, there's a supernatural strength capable of taking all of Mary's weight if need be. Michael's always kind of understood, it's why he generally appears as someone else around her because John's face is a reminder of what she had - of what she couldn't have anymore.]

I know. Let it all out, I'm here for you.

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momchester - 2012-07-07 10:48 (UTC) - Expand

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servingfather - 2012-07-07 11:11 (UTC) - Expand

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momchester - 2012-07-07 11:26 (UTC) - Expand

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servingfather - 2012-07-07 11:47 (UTC) - Expand

It's fine, Dad. [ Sam finally speaks up, having taken a minute to lament that fact that everyone seemed to know about his greatest problem. His big insecurity. Mild panic and regret tug at his heart, but he keeps it out of his voice, for now. ]

Forget about it.

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† ONE [voice] - backdated to Friday morning

video;

Re: video;

video;

Re: video;

video;

video;

video;

voice;

voice/private;

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voice; 1/2

voice; 2/2 bitches

voice;

voice;

voice;

offline; with apologies to kai's inbox

offline; with no apologies because inboxes love drama :D

harrumph :|

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voice;