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

[ Seeing John was one thing. It hurt, of course, because the last thing he did with his father before his death was fight. As usual. And that was something he hadn't been able to make up for, something he hadn't put entirely behind him.

But, this... this, he wasn't prepared for, even if he'd been forewarned. Sam damn nearly drops the NV when she calls, matching her disgruntled and expressive look when he answers. But, he can't speak, not yet. His mouth runs dry, his voice lost in the sweep of the moment. He hasn't seen their mother since he was an infant, a few instances aside. There she was, staring avidly at him, and he has the unexplainable urge to toss the device aside, to go somewhere his past can't catch up with him and remind him of all the people who died because of him.

Sam doesn't do either of those things, of course. He unhinges his jaw, as if it's been set for days at a time, and takes a long, steadying breath. What can he possibly say to her, after... everything? ]

M... Mom.

[ Suddenly, he's a kid again, though still with a premature weight on his shoulders, and phenomenal pain in his chest. ]

... You're here.

[Instantly her expression drops off, the fearful, hopeful, searching look collapsing into grief.]

You don't remember.

[Blinking away hot tears, she tells herself to get a grip. Get it together. As if she possibly could, under the circumstances. As if she could have even a shred of a grip on the heels of being hunted like an animal, being killed, seeing- him. Him, a man who no longer knows her. Who she, really, doesn't know, when the man she knew before was so different. The Sam she knew and loved and feared is gone forever, and she- goddamn it, she has to start over. John and Dean don't understand. She has to start again from zero.]

That's okay. [A tearful, forced little smile.] It's okay. I am here.

[It's poetic, in a way. Sam was the first person she really met, the first normal voice she heard, the first face she saw in Siren's Port. It's fitting she should be here on his first day, too.]

I'm not going anywhere.

[She sniffles slightly and tries to draw herself up. There's still a hard edge of caution to her movements, a certain cagey sense of closed-off or distrusting. What she says next is more like an order than the gentle creature he might hope for.]

Sam, where are you? I'm in the Tower Apartments. Come find me.

[ It's more and more like he's a kid again, swept away with a lifetime of longing for an absent mother. He swallows with difficulty a lump that's been building in his throat, and listens to her few words of comfort, painfully aware of the sadness in her voice. Is it just from this encounter, he wonders? Or... well, he'd been in the Port before, they told him. Had something happened? He'd have to find out, but discreetly. He wouldn't bring it up to her, not if it upset her like this. ]

Alright. [ The Tower Apartments, apparently, were not far from where he stood. Sam hurries in that direction, still keeping the NV out and level, as if he expects her to disappear from the screen at any given moment. ]

I'm on my way.

[Oh but Mary will bring it up. She can't not.

She nods tersely in reply.]

Good. I'm on the stairs in the lobby, okay? They should have assigned you an apartment by now, we can go up there.

I'll be by the elevator.

[She almost hangs up, before remembering herself at the last moment and realizing that wow, oh god, he's seeing her kind of for the first time. Maybe she can't be the ethereal perfect dream-mom he's expecting, but she can at least show up.]

See you soon. [ And, yes, he is seeing her for the first time, really. As he hurries along, Sam steals furtive glances at the screen, breath catching with the pain of it all. He hadn't known what to expect when he rolled onto that baseball diamond, but this wasn't it.

Before too long, he's standing at the door, and it's only then that he hangs up the phone. After taking a few, steadying breaths, the younger Winchester pushes open the door, hand white with his grip around the knob. He steps hesitantly into the lobby, glancing around, heart pounding in his ears. ]

... Mom? It's Sam.

Sam?

[She's by the elevator across the lobby when he calls. Mary turns around, heart in her throat, suddenly unable to breathe.]

Oh my god, Sam.

[Her doubts melt away suddenly. The doubts, the fears, the post-traumatic horrors that have her jumping at shadows- it doesn't matter, because the one person she needed to see is here and she couldn't ever do anything in this moment except to run across the room and throw her arms around him.]

I'm not dreaming. Thank god.

[ He has a very similar reaction, though he isn't able to make the first move, as his legs are frozen to the ground, as if they're made of lead. When she crashes into him, he inhales sharply, having half-expected her to bust into a cloud of smoke, and disappear again. But, she's real, holding onto him, and he returns the embrace with fervor before he can even really process it. ]

This is-- [ He breathes, and though he means to add 'real,' the word doesn't materialize. Sam just tightens his grip around her, as if holding fast to her now will rewrite history, wipe clean everything that's happened. ]

Mom, I'm... I'm sorry. I'm so... so sorry.

No- no, baby, no. [Babbling over and over into his shoulder, straining on her tip-toes to try and get closer.] Shh, don't be sorry, it's not your fault, I'm so sorry.

[Her breathless reassurances pour over into apologies wrenched from deep inside her, a place too vulnerable and real for her to handle right now. She buries her face in his shoulder and makes a broken sound like she's about to sob.]

[ He hunches slightly, just so she doesn't have to stretch up so far. Still, he's mostly focused on the almost overwhelming feeling of grief that's welled up inside him. And, all at once, it's too much. ]

I-- you were killed, because of me. And there's nothing--

[ He cuts off, choking up, drawing short, broken breaths. The two make quite a pair, holding each other for dear life, lost in the what-ifs. ]

I can't, I still can't... do anything... to save you.

[More than anything, hearing him sob about it being his fault drives it home that this isn't the Sam who left here before. This is maybe a younger Sam, maybe older- but newer somehow, purer. He's somehow lighter than she's ever seen him, even falling apart in his grief like this. This different pain that she can do something about - because for once in the year she's known Sam, she knows she can do something to make him hurt less. Her heart aches like it never has before for him and she pulls him tighter, stroking his hair soothingly, trying to be everywhere at once and hug him tight enough to keep the whole world out.]

No, Sam, don't, it wasn't your fault. [She cups his face in her hands and pulls away enough to look him right in the eyes, tears shining unshed in her own.] I died because of me. Sam, I'd make that choice again a thousand times if it would've saved you. Please, honey, don't make this your fault.

[ She's comforting, yes, more than she could ever realize. Just knowing that she's alive, here and now, standing in front of him... there's a stinging in his eyes, and he focuses on keeping his jaw set determinedly as he blinks away tears. This is his chance to keep her safe, to make sure nothing happens to her again. So, he swallows the lump in his throat, nodding firmly to what she's saying, taking a mental vow. ]

... Thank you. For everything.

[ He envelopes her again in an embrace, arms wrapped around her, eyes shut tight. ]

... I can't believe this.

[She folds into the hug, holding him almost fiercely.]

Believe it. [Stroking his hair soothingly.] I'm here. I'm here. This is real.

[ He's not sure how long he stands there, just trying to take in the fact that this is real, and not another nightmare, where everything twists and melts away into flame and smoke. He swallows, hard, and pulls back, searching her face, as if trying to put together a mental picture that will never, ever fade. ]

Are you-- I mean, are you alright? How long've you been here?

Ten months.

[She won't answer the first question. Instead, Mary takes his hand gently and starts pulling him towards the elevator.]

Come on. They should have given you an apartment by now.

[ Wow. His eyes widen slightly in surprise. ] Really?

[ And now she's pulling him toward the elevator, okay-- ]

Mom, I-- [ He cuts off momentarily, and then his grip around her hand tightens. ] ... It's really, really good to see you.

[Oh, ow. She stops dead in her tracks and looks back at him, taking in his familiar face, those heartbreakingly sincere eyes, and her eyes water a little.]

I know. [She blinks back the tears that she still hasn't cried.] I love you, sweetie.

[She squeezes his hand gently, and presses the elevator button.]

I love you, too. [ He says softly, as they move into the elevator. Any second, he'll wake up, and this'll be another dream. That's what he has to tell himself, so he's not disappointed and miserable when it happens... ]

What's the name of this place, again?

Siren's Port.

[She pushes the button for a floor she knows is full of only empty apartments, and the doors close.]

I know, it's a bad joke. This place is as much fun as a real siren.

[ A real siren. It's so bizarre to hear her bring it up. And he doesn't really want to add on, himself, but the words sort of spill out... ]

So, I guess you know... about the hunting.

[ Sorry, Mom. So, so sorry. ]

Yeah... [She frowns slightly.] You know about me, don't you?

[Oh man, what if he doesn't? What time is he even from?]

... Yeah. [ He frowns slightly, in return. ] Dean told me.

[ He hasn't seen it for himself. Not yet. ]

Okay.

[She starts to talk, but the elevator dings. She leads him out into the hallway with a frown and lets herself into Dean's apartment.]

Come on, this is where Dean's staying.

[Mary steers him to the couch, sits him down, and looks at him, trying valiantly not to cry. One hand goes to his cheek, the other clasping his hand on his knee, eyes searching his intently.]

Sam. I want you to understand that I made every decision that brought that demon into that nursery. You were just a baby. I made that bed and I am so sorry that you were forced to lie in it.

[ No. Nonononono, she's apologizing for what he did to her, and he can't. Sam's eyes again sting with withheld tears, and he draws a stuttered breath before countering her, scrambling to find the right words. ]

No. Mom, you... this is my fault, and I'm... I'm the reason that monster was there, and you didn't deserve that. You could've lived, like you were supposed to.

[ There's a twinge of anger, at himself. She deserved to live a thousand times over, whereas he was the demon-blooded kid, the one who should've been dead for years. It would've been better that way. ]

No. [It comes out as a hiss.] No. Sam.

[She shakes her head earnestly, her hand working into his hair and gripping him tighter, as she brings him closer to make sure he gets every forced-out word.]

I made a deal with a demon. I was- an adult, and I should have known better. [She takes a labored breath, struggling not to hate herself too much. Not to cry.] My parents raised me to know better. Even worse, I made a deal where the terms were unclear. I didn't even know what I was bargaining- all I knew was that in ten years, that demon would be back to take something he said I wouldn't miss.

[She's gritting her teeth in anger, grief, a thousand different facets of pain shining in her eyes at the sound of her own child (Sam) apologizing for living that night.]

I made that deal and that's why the demon came for you at all. It couldn't have gotten in the house if it weren't for me. [She tries to blink back tears but it's too late, they're stinging her eyes and burning her cheeks with every word.] I am so sorry. I walked into the the nursery that night and saw a demon bent over my baby's crib and- I thought he was taking you. Sam, I would have done the same thing over again, a thousand different times. Sam, please don't blame yourself for me ruining your life, please.

[She wouldn't normally fall apart like this, but her mental stability was hanging by a thread when he got here, and this combination of triggers and traumas has pushed her into full-on crying while holding him and gripping his hand like she means to break it.]

No-- Mom, no. [ He's definitely his mother's son. ] You didn't-- there's no way you ruined my life. There's not-- I--

[ He has to look away a minute, mouth twisted in an attempt to keep out the dry sob that's lodged in his throat. That she could possibly think she'd ruined his life when, despite what she's said, he was the reason she had been killed? ]

That's not it. [ Does she know? She has to. ] It's not just that, I'm... People die around me. All the time. People I love. And it's because of me, not them. I'm this twisted, messed-up thing, and it's always going to come back to me.

[ He swallows, grief building in his throat, burning him like acid. ]

I'm Lucifer's vessel. [ His heart pounds with the meaning of his words, ones he just heard so, so recently. ] No matter what happened in the nursery, I'm sure-- I'm sure something would've happened to you, to everyone. To get to me, to make me into--

[ He cuts off, unable to go on. ]

... I shouldn't be here, right. I'm putting you in danger again.

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momchester - 2012-08-07 05:39 (UTC) - Expand

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upstairsbrain - 2012-08-07 14:30 (UTC) - Expand

† ONE [voice] - backdated to Friday morning

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video/private; also pretending this happens before john's demon blood comment :|

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