once more with feeling
but, like, you guys.
can you even imagine what it must be like to have a demon murder your parents and then force you to sell your soul so that he'll at least bring back your fiance aka the only person you have left, only to find out ten years later and far too late that you've not only sold yourself to said demon, but also your infant son, and one of the last things you see before you die is the demon feeding your son his blood and you can't do a damn thing about it
and can you imagine coming back three decades later and being taken in by those same sons, who are only maybe ten years younger than you now because you haven't aged a day in the time that you've been dead, only they're practically strangers to you now, and the man you married isn't the same man who raised them because your death shook him to his very core, and your sons were raised in the very same life that you tried so hard to leave behind, and they've completely embraced it, and one son has rose-tinted, time-skewed memories from when he was four years old and the other son-the one you're afraid to even meet because you still blame yourself for everything the demon did to him-doesn't even remember you and they both want to reach out to you so badly, but you can't be the mother that one of them remembers, and even if the other harbors no resentment towards you for the demon, you can't erase your own guilt
and you can't even sleep at night because every time you do you dream of fire, and sulfur, and monsters with yellow eyes wearing your dead father's face-or you dream of your little corner of heaven where you're with your husband and your children, and somehow that's almost worse than the nightmares because some terrible part of you just wants to go back there, because that was an environment that you knew, and every waking moment is simultaneously a reminder of the heaven that you lost and the guilt that comes with knowing that you're longing for a flimsy fantasy when you should be focusing on your living, breathing sons
and they tell you that you belong here with them, in some old 1950s bunker where the father-in-law that you probably didn't even know existed and certainly never met once worked and where a secret society that you never fully believed in once operated, only you've been literally fucking dead up until a few weeks ago, and your sons don't know anything about you except the you that they've created in their minds to cope with your death, and you want to bridge that thirty-three-year gap, but in that time they've grown up and fallen in love and lost too many more loved ones and been to hell and back and saved the world too many times to count-and not only have you missed out on all of these events that made them who they are, but as you try and throw yourself into hunting with them, you come to the terrible and maybe inevitable realization that they don't even really need you, and they haven't needed you since 1983, because you've been dead and they've had to learn to live their entire lives without you
yeah. i'd probably need to leave for a little while, too.
can you even imagine what it must be like to have a demon murder your parents and then force you to sell your soul so that he'll at least bring back your fiance aka the only person you have left, only to find out ten years later and far too late that you've not only sold yourself to said demon, but also your infant son, and one of the last things you see before you die is the demon feeding your son his blood and you can't do a damn thing about it
and can you imagine coming back three decades later and being taken in by those same sons, who are only maybe ten years younger than you now because you haven't aged a day in the time that you've been dead, only they're practically strangers to you now, and the man you married isn't the same man who raised them because your death shook him to his very core, and your sons were raised in the very same life that you tried so hard to leave behind, and they've completely embraced it, and one son has rose-tinted, time-skewed memories from when he was four years old and the other son-the one you're afraid to even meet because you still blame yourself for everything the demon did to him-doesn't even remember you and they both want to reach out to you so badly, but you can't be the mother that one of them remembers, and even if the other harbors no resentment towards you for the demon, you can't erase your own guilt
and you can't even sleep at night because every time you do you dream of fire, and sulfur, and monsters with yellow eyes wearing your dead father's face-or you dream of your little corner of heaven where you're with your husband and your children, and somehow that's almost worse than the nightmares because some terrible part of you just wants to go back there, because that was an environment that you knew, and every waking moment is simultaneously a reminder of the heaven that you lost and the guilt that comes with knowing that you're longing for a flimsy fantasy when you should be focusing on your living, breathing sons
and they tell you that you belong here with them, in some old 1950s bunker where the father-in-law that you probably didn't even know existed and certainly never met once worked and where a secret society that you never fully believed in once operated, only you've been literally fucking dead up until a few weeks ago, and your sons don't know anything about you except the you that they've created in their minds to cope with your death, and you want to bridge that thirty-three-year gap, but in that time they've grown up and fallen in love and lost too many more loved ones and been to hell and back and saved the world too many times to count-and not only have you missed out on all of these events that made them who they are, but as you try and throw yourself into hunting with them, you come to the terrible and maybe inevitable realization that they don't even really need you, and they haven't needed you since 1983, because you've been dead and they've had to learn to live their entire lives without you
yeah. i'd probably need to leave for a little while, too.