text;

[momchester]

[Anyone who knows and talks to Mary knows that she doesn't really like texting. So the fact that this is text- it's unusual.]

Dean Winchester is gone from Siren's Port. He disappeared earlier today.

If anybody wants to find me, I'll be at the Newcomer Memorial.

[Most likely drunk. Her marriage dissolved even more this week, talk about an awful month.]

[Private to Castiel | added several hours later]

Hi. Just wanted to drop you a line and ask how you're doing.

Comments

[momchester]

[For Mary it's different. The loss doesn't feel real to her yet. There's no closure until she's staring into a pyre watching the body burn away- a hunter's funeral. That's how she knows death and moving on. At this point it's just a thin, empty, formless feeling of loss.]

You kept them together. You raised a hunter who went to Stanford.

[failedparenting]

No, I didn't.

[He shakes his head adamantly. He's never been involved in anything remotely impressively academic, even indirectly.]

He did that all on his own. Hell, he probably could've graduated high school early if I wasn't dragging him all over God's green earth.

[momchester]

You must've done something. Sam told me you did the best you could.

[failedparenting]

Sam? Really?

[Eyebrow quirk.]

Must be lawyer for "fuck all".

[momchester]

He was being honest.