FIC: "The First and Second Letters of Mara to the Midwesterners", PG, Gen
Title: "The First and Second Letters of Mara to the Midwesterners"
Series: 42 Days of Metallicar and the Women of Supernatural #40
2580 words. PG. No warnings.
No spoilers after s4 -- this story is set after the Apocalypse is averted.
Featuring: Mara Daniels, the Public Defender from 2.19, Folsom Prison Blues. Also refers to my previous, crackier, fic, "The Fanonization of the Apostle Sherri" and to Becky Warren, after she found a Circle. I'm still playing with this idea of what the Winchester Testament would look like as a whole -- so here are two of its Epistles!
Thanks to alias_chick for hosting 42 Days of Metallicar. This completes my series about the Women of Season Two!
Summary: "Greetings to our sisters in St. Louis, from the Winchester Girls in Little Rock. I, Mara Daniels, Attorney at Law, do attest ...." This is all well and good, till Becky gives it to Dean and he reads it!
THE LETTER OF THE APOSTLE MARA DANIELS
TO
THE MIDWESTERNERS
Greetings to Rebecca, and to all our sisters in St. Louis, from the Winchester Girls in Little Rock. I, Mara Daniels, Attorney at Law, being of sound mind, do attest to the truth of the events of Folsom Prison Blues, as revealed by the prophet Chuck, so help me, Sam and Dean.
I met Our Boys after they broke into the Arkansas Museum of Anthropology, where FBI Special Agent Victor Henriksen, and his partner Carl Reidy, caught up with them and tried to extradite them to Wisconsin, where as you know, Dean killed the shape shifter in the City Bank of Milwaukee.
Upon noticing something strange about the Winchesters’ files, I called every witness I could reach. Our Sister, Sherri, witnessed to me personally, and since then has told many others, of the True Story of how Sam and Dean killed the shifter and saved the people in the bank, with the exception of Ron Resnick and a bank employee, Castiel defend their souls.
I also spoke to Detective Diana Ballard, of Baltimore, who swore to me that Our Boys saved her life and helped her catch a killer. In return, she saved Dean’s life and let him and Sam get away, to live and flee in the Impala till another day, all hail the roaring of Her Engine.
It was you, Rebecca, dear Friend of Sam, who urged me to read through the evidence again, and to acknowledge that the Winchesters went where there was trouble and brought that trouble to an end.
As a public defender it was my job to help the Boys understand their problems with the law, but they were on a mission and would not turn away from helping an old friend of their father’s. Our Boys might not be saints, but they are loyal, and Deacon, the warden, had asked them to stop whatever was killing people at Green River County Detention Center. To do this, the Winchesters staged their own arrest.
I hereby testify that Dean Winchester asked me for nothing for himself, only for the information he needed to help him and Sam solve the case.
Knowing that I was a Public Defender, Dean asked me to look into his eyes, to read there if he was guilty or innocent. I saw nothing but determination. His innocence or guilt is still a question our Faith must consider. In my awe at his singlemindedness, I went against my better judgment as an attorney, and gave him what he had asked for.
When Henriksen pressured me to tell him what I had told Dean, I sent him and his men to the wrong cemetery, giving Sam and Dean time to stop the ghost, and, I later learned, they saved Deacon’s life in the nick of time. This I learned from Deacon himself, a friend of Our Boys and of John Winchester.
Agent Henriksen later became a convert to the Faith after Our Boys saved him from demonic possession at the Seige of Monument, but Lilith killed him shortly afterwards, Sammy have mercy.
Since our encounter at Green River, I have spoken to many who have met Sam and Dean. Some were too scarred by supernatural events to have many good words about the Brothers. Others blame them for the events of the Apocalypse, triggered by Our Boys in the midst of demonic and Angelic machinations.
But I say to you, my sisters and brothers, that the Winchesters teach us loyalty, and courage, and family, and self-sacrifice. They teach us to do our research, to clean our weapons, and to get the job done. The Winchesters are not monsters. I have looked into their eyes, and this I testify.
And now, by Her Engine, who is able to carry you off into the sunset, be all good things--a full tank, a clean bed, good food, good company, and a knife under your pillow--and may Castiel keep you in the shadow of his wings.
In Nomine Dean, et Sammy, et Spiritu Impala, AMEN.
THE SECOND LETTER OF MARA
TO THE MIDWESTERNERS
Becky, and all you Girls in St. Louis,
How could you let Dean read THE LETTER? You know I only wrote it for posterity and our records as Winchester Girls! OMG I sound half crazy! lolz!
Well, it’s not all bad. Dean looked me up in Little Rock. I know!
I’m still doing public defense for the state of Arkansas, but at least I’m out of Green River. That place is so small it’s like it hardly exists. Little Rock’s a pretty nice town - not as hopping as St. Louis, of course, but decent.
So it was this past Saturday morning, and I was washing the dishes that had piled up in my sink all week - attorney hours, you know-- when there was a knock at the door. So my hands were all wet and I went to the front door and there on my porch was Dean Winchester, in the flesh.
Now Becky, I know you’re all, “did you have a silver knife?” but I wasn’t even thinking. I just threw the door open. Well, of course the whole house is ringed out with salt and the name of God on every threshhold, and a devil’s trap under the doormat-so sue me if I didn’t come after him with a silver knife right away. Like every shapeshifter in the country is just lining up to lick Dean Winchester and parade about in his visage. Well, yeah, come to think of it, maybe they are!
Never mind, it was him, for real.
“Mara?” he said.
I don’t know how women don’t faint when he just says their name. I mean, when I first met him, the Boys were in so much trouble, and Henriksen made them out to be psychopaths, Dean especially, and they were felons wanted for multiple crimes, so I wasn’t as struck by Dean back then. The lighting in an interrogation room isn’t really the most flattering, and of course Dean was doing his “smooth asshole” thing, which isn’t really as impressive as he thinks it is.
But now he was just standing there on my front porch, all uncertain, head kind of bowed, his voice all soft and gruff. Melt, my heart.
“Dean!” I said. “Oh my God! What brings you here? Are you and Sam okay?”
Sam wasn’t with him - he was off with Castiel on retreat like they do. The Impala was parked in my driveway. Oh, a thing of beauty is a joy forever! The sunlight on that perfect black paint! The lines of Her! I tell you, it was like She was watching me, I kid you not. Like a mom with her arms crossed.
So I tried to collect myself. “I’m sorry, Dean. Please come in. I’m not going to read you the third degree here on the porch.”
“Thanks,” he said, and kind of ambled in. You know? It’s almost like he’s two different people - that brash outward persona he wears in front of strangers, especially when he’s on the job - and then this, the real Dean, actually kind of quiet and shy.
I took him on in to the kitchen. Thank god I’d just cleaned. It was all wiped up and nice, the table cleared off, the sunlight shining through the curtains.
He had a seat in a kitchen chair, and he still hadn’t really said anything.
“Have you had breakfast? Want something to drink?”
“Uh, that’s really nice of you, but I just ate. Maybe coffee?”
“Oh, of course. Coming up!”
So I made Dean coffee and he drank it black. He wasn’t talking, but I was content just to look at him. We kind of had the vestiges of a professional relationship, you know? But after reading the Gospels, I knew so much about him, it was, you know, kind of weird. But I didn’t know yet y’all had shown him THE LETTER!
“Well, ahem, I guess you’re wondering why I’m here,” Dean finally said.
“A bit,” I agreed.
Dean seemed really uncomfortable, then he let out a breath. “Well, Sam and me, we’re kind of doing this... thing... together, kind of a twelve steps thing.”
“What?” I said intelligently.
“We’re kind of trying to track down people we might have wronged. To make amends,” Dean said.
“What?” I repeated, even more intelligently.
“Well, Sam wanted to visit these old friends of his, Becky and Zach, and I take it you know Becky?”
“Oh, yeah, she’s a Sister in ....” Slowly my brain caught up to my mouth.
If Dean knew I knew you, then he knew that I...
“What did she tell you,” I said.
Dean cleared his throat again. “You know, I just think Chuck’s kind of a dork, I mean, it’s not his fault that he wrote those books before he knew they were real, but now we’ve got you Girls all reading them as Gospels? It’s a little weird.”
I was so red, I know. “It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like, then,” Dean asked.
Time to face the music! I’d never really pictured meeting Dean again. I’d met him once, I’d done my best to help him out, end of story. Mara goes on with her life and gets a better job in a bigger city and lives in a nicer house, and maybe, on the side, she meets up with the Girls once a month and goes over the Gospels in a circle, and maybe she corresponds with other Girls in other towns, and maybe they all, kind of, keep track of the Winchesters, and she learns as much of their lore as she can without actually becoming a Hunter (Castiel keep us in the shadow of his wings) ...
“It’s a responsibility,” I blurted out.
Dean gave me a face liked he’d just bitten into a tofu burger. “What?” He sounded much more intelligent than I had, I thought.
“These things happened to us too, you know! I mean, I lied to a Federal Agent. I could have been disbarred! - except for the fact that he was trying to get information out of me that was actually client privileged. Then I went and met Deacon, and found out the truth about Glockner? By that time, you Boys were long gone. So who was I supposed to talk to about it? Then I caught wind of Folsom Prison Blues. Chuck used my real name, you know!”
Now Dean was blushing. “Yeah, eventually I kind of realized that.”
“Well, no harm, no foul. I moved to Little Rock - ready to get away from Green River anyway. And usually, if anyone recognizes my name, it’s another Sister, and I invite her to a Circle, and it’s all good.”
“So you Girls, what, just talk about shit?”
“You really want to know?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“We meet once a month, but we keep tabs on the net. We track you guys and pray for you and watch out for ways we can help you. Some of us are Hunters now, you know -“ Dean rolled his eyes but I interrupted him. “Don’t you scoff! Every Hunter gets into it one way or another! Remember Haley Collins?”
Dean wrinkled his brow. “Wendigo girl?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “She’s an awesome Hunter now, plus, a librarian. Research like you wouldn’t believe. Access to texts from all over the world, give her time.”
“Huh,” Dean said, eyebrows raised.
“And I’m sure you remember Kathleen Hudak? She caught wind of us Girls about a year ago. She tried to track you Boys, but you go off the grid too often.”
“That we do,” Dean nodded, soberly. “How’s Kathleen?”
“She’s good, better now that she’s joined a Circle.”
“But the Benders were humans,” Dean said, frowning. “I thought you Girls were all wild about the Supernatural thing.”
“No, Dean. We’re wild about You,” I said gently.
That took him aback. “Me?” He made a disparaging noise. “Aw, sugar, I know I’m adorable, but I’m nothing to write home about.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean. You and Sam, you’ve gone up against just about every kind of monster, demon - hell, you’ve gone up against Angels and averted the Apocalypse! You still don’t think you’re heroes?”
Dean just shook his head for a minute, then at last he looked me in the eye.
“We’re not heroes, Mara. God knows, the things we’ve done. We’re just trying to make amends, now, however we can.”
I looked into his eyes again, like I did that day in the Green River County Detention Center, and what I saw there made me want to cry.
He was still determined, sure enough - he was a Winchester, and I don’t think they can ever give up, if they still have breath left in them.
But there was so much guilt, and pain, and sorrow, that it almost took my breath away. This is what Dean carries, every day? After everything he’s given, and done, to save people? I couldn’t stand it.
“Dean, I know the things you’ve done. We all do. That’s why we read the Gospels. You face down odds we can’t imagine, and make it okay again when the world’s about to end. We love you for that, you and Sam, despite the mistakes you’ve made or the things you think are unforgiveable. We’d never presume to put ourselves in your shoes. We just want to testify to who you really are.”
“Who we really are?” Dean said, with grit in his voice. “The guys who started the Apocalypse?”
“No,” I said firmly, “the guys who Stopped It. Who put the Angels back in their place. Who restored Lucifer to his throne in hell, and God to his throne in Heaven. We know all that, Dean, and someday, all the world will know. And we just testify to the little parts of it we know to be true.”
“Huh,” Dean said again, and wiped surreptitiously at his eyes. “Here I was coming to see if I’d done you wrong, and you think I’m some kind of hero.”
“Dean, whatever I did, I did it because I knew I had to do the right thing, just like you, no matter what if it looked wrong to someone else. You never did me any harm. I’m the better for meeting you once, five years ago.”
When Dean looked up, my heart broke all over again. He was just a little kid when he became a Hunter, and in a lot of ways that little kid never had a chance to grow up. “Really?” he said.
“Absolutely, Dean. Look, I even have the tattoo.” I pulled down my collar and showed him.
“Aw, no! You didn’t!” Dean said, but he was laughing, so it was okay.
“I sure did!” I said. “Stung like a mother!”
Then we went out for Krispy Kremes, and later, Dean called his brother, and Sam and Castiel showed up at my house, and we stayed up late, and had a few beers, and I cooked a big breakfast for them all on Sunday morning, then Castiel went his way and Sam and Dean drove off in the Impala, Her Engine roaring like you can’t imagine unless you’ve heard it for yourself.
So, I guess, thanks after all for showing Dean the Letter. It wasn’t as embarrassing as I thought it would be.
Love,
Mara
Series: 42 Days of Metallicar and the Women of Supernatural #40
2580 words. PG. No warnings.
No spoilers after s4 -- this story is set after the Apocalypse is averted.
Featuring: Mara Daniels, the Public Defender from 2.19, Folsom Prison Blues. Also refers to my previous, crackier, fic, "The Fanonization of the Apostle Sherri" and to Becky Warren, after she found a Circle. I'm still playing with this idea of what the Winchester Testament would look like as a whole -- so here are two of its Epistles!
Thanks to alias_chick for hosting 42 Days of Metallicar. This completes my series about the Women of Season Two!
Summary: "Greetings to our sisters in St. Louis, from the Winchester Girls in Little Rock. I, Mara Daniels, Attorney at Law, do attest ...." This is all well and good, till Becky gives it to Dean and he reads it!
THE LETTER OF THE APOSTLE MARA DANIELS
TO
THE MIDWESTERNERS
Greetings to Rebecca, and to all our sisters in St. Louis, from the Winchester Girls in Little Rock. I, Mara Daniels, Attorney at Law, being of sound mind, do attest to the truth of the events of Folsom Prison Blues, as revealed by the prophet Chuck, so help me, Sam and Dean.
I met Our Boys after they broke into the Arkansas Museum of Anthropology, where FBI Special Agent Victor Henriksen, and his partner Carl Reidy, caught up with them and tried to extradite them to Wisconsin, where as you know, Dean killed the shape shifter in the City Bank of Milwaukee.
Upon noticing something strange about the Winchesters’ files, I called every witness I could reach. Our Sister, Sherri, witnessed to me personally, and since then has told many others, of the True Story of how Sam and Dean killed the shifter and saved the people in the bank, with the exception of Ron Resnick and a bank employee, Castiel defend their souls.
I also spoke to Detective Diana Ballard, of Baltimore, who swore to me that Our Boys saved her life and helped her catch a killer. In return, she saved Dean’s life and let him and Sam get away, to live and flee in the Impala till another day, all hail the roaring of Her Engine.
It was you, Rebecca, dear Friend of Sam, who urged me to read through the evidence again, and to acknowledge that the Winchesters went where there was trouble and brought that trouble to an end.
As a public defender it was my job to help the Boys understand their problems with the law, but they were on a mission and would not turn away from helping an old friend of their father’s. Our Boys might not be saints, but they are loyal, and Deacon, the warden, had asked them to stop whatever was killing people at Green River County Detention Center. To do this, the Winchesters staged their own arrest.
I hereby testify that Dean Winchester asked me for nothing for himself, only for the information he needed to help him and Sam solve the case.
Knowing that I was a Public Defender, Dean asked me to look into his eyes, to read there if he was guilty or innocent. I saw nothing but determination. His innocence or guilt is still a question our Faith must consider. In my awe at his singlemindedness, I went against my better judgment as an attorney, and gave him what he had asked for.
When Henriksen pressured me to tell him what I had told Dean, I sent him and his men to the wrong cemetery, giving Sam and Dean time to stop the ghost, and, I later learned, they saved Deacon’s life in the nick of time. This I learned from Deacon himself, a friend of Our Boys and of John Winchester.
Agent Henriksen later became a convert to the Faith after Our Boys saved him from demonic possession at the Seige of Monument, but Lilith killed him shortly afterwards, Sammy have mercy.
Since our encounter at Green River, I have spoken to many who have met Sam and Dean. Some were too scarred by supernatural events to have many good words about the Brothers. Others blame them for the events of the Apocalypse, triggered by Our Boys in the midst of demonic and Angelic machinations.
But I say to you, my sisters and brothers, that the Winchesters teach us loyalty, and courage, and family, and self-sacrifice. They teach us to do our research, to clean our weapons, and to get the job done. The Winchesters are not monsters. I have looked into their eyes, and this I testify.
And now, by Her Engine, who is able to carry you off into the sunset, be all good things--a full tank, a clean bed, good food, good company, and a knife under your pillow--and may Castiel keep you in the shadow of his wings.
In Nomine Dean, et Sammy, et Spiritu Impala, AMEN.
THE SECOND LETTER OF MARA
TO THE MIDWESTERNERS
Becky, and all you Girls in St. Louis,
How could you let Dean read THE LETTER? You know I only wrote it for posterity and our records as Winchester Girls! OMG I sound half crazy! lolz!
Well, it’s not all bad. Dean looked me up in Little Rock. I know!
I’m still doing public defense for the state of Arkansas, but at least I’m out of Green River. That place is so small it’s like it hardly exists. Little Rock’s a pretty nice town - not as hopping as St. Louis, of course, but decent.
So it was this past Saturday morning, and I was washing the dishes that had piled up in my sink all week - attorney hours, you know-- when there was a knock at the door. So my hands were all wet and I went to the front door and there on my porch was Dean Winchester, in the flesh.
Now Becky, I know you’re all, “did you have a silver knife?” but I wasn’t even thinking. I just threw the door open. Well, of course the whole house is ringed out with salt and the name of God on every threshhold, and a devil’s trap under the doormat-so sue me if I didn’t come after him with a silver knife right away. Like every shapeshifter in the country is just lining up to lick Dean Winchester and parade about in his visage. Well, yeah, come to think of it, maybe they are!
Never mind, it was him, for real.
“Mara?” he said.
I don’t know how women don’t faint when he just says their name. I mean, when I first met him, the Boys were in so much trouble, and Henriksen made them out to be psychopaths, Dean especially, and they were felons wanted for multiple crimes, so I wasn’t as struck by Dean back then. The lighting in an interrogation room isn’t really the most flattering, and of course Dean was doing his “smooth asshole” thing, which isn’t really as impressive as he thinks it is.
But now he was just standing there on my front porch, all uncertain, head kind of bowed, his voice all soft and gruff. Melt, my heart.
“Dean!” I said. “Oh my God! What brings you here? Are you and Sam okay?”
Sam wasn’t with him - he was off with Castiel on retreat like they do. The Impala was parked in my driveway. Oh, a thing of beauty is a joy forever! The sunlight on that perfect black paint! The lines of Her! I tell you, it was like She was watching me, I kid you not. Like a mom with her arms crossed.
So I tried to collect myself. “I’m sorry, Dean. Please come in. I’m not going to read you the third degree here on the porch.”
“Thanks,” he said, and kind of ambled in. You know? It’s almost like he’s two different people - that brash outward persona he wears in front of strangers, especially when he’s on the job - and then this, the real Dean, actually kind of quiet and shy.
I took him on in to the kitchen. Thank god I’d just cleaned. It was all wiped up and nice, the table cleared off, the sunlight shining through the curtains.
He had a seat in a kitchen chair, and he still hadn’t really said anything.
“Have you had breakfast? Want something to drink?”
“Uh, that’s really nice of you, but I just ate. Maybe coffee?”
“Oh, of course. Coming up!”
So I made Dean coffee and he drank it black. He wasn’t talking, but I was content just to look at him. We kind of had the vestiges of a professional relationship, you know? But after reading the Gospels, I knew so much about him, it was, you know, kind of weird. But I didn’t know yet y’all had shown him THE LETTER!
“Well, ahem, I guess you’re wondering why I’m here,” Dean finally said.
“A bit,” I agreed.
Dean seemed really uncomfortable, then he let out a breath. “Well, Sam and me, we’re kind of doing this... thing... together, kind of a twelve steps thing.”
“What?” I said intelligently.
“We’re kind of trying to track down people we might have wronged. To make amends,” Dean said.
“What?” I repeated, even more intelligently.
“Well, Sam wanted to visit these old friends of his, Becky and Zach, and I take it you know Becky?”
“Oh, yeah, she’s a Sister in ....” Slowly my brain caught up to my mouth.
If Dean knew I knew you, then he knew that I...
“What did she tell you,” I said.
Dean cleared his throat again. “You know, I just think Chuck’s kind of a dork, I mean, it’s not his fault that he wrote those books before he knew they were real, but now we’ve got you Girls all reading them as Gospels? It’s a little weird.”
I was so red, I know. “It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like, then,” Dean asked.
Time to face the music! I’d never really pictured meeting Dean again. I’d met him once, I’d done my best to help him out, end of story. Mara goes on with her life and gets a better job in a bigger city and lives in a nicer house, and maybe, on the side, she meets up with the Girls once a month and goes over the Gospels in a circle, and maybe she corresponds with other Girls in other towns, and maybe they all, kind of, keep track of the Winchesters, and she learns as much of their lore as she can without actually becoming a Hunter (Castiel keep us in the shadow of his wings) ...
“It’s a responsibility,” I blurted out.
Dean gave me a face liked he’d just bitten into a tofu burger. “What?” He sounded much more intelligent than I had, I thought.
“These things happened to us too, you know! I mean, I lied to a Federal Agent. I could have been disbarred! - except for the fact that he was trying to get information out of me that was actually client privileged. Then I went and met Deacon, and found out the truth about Glockner? By that time, you Boys were long gone. So who was I supposed to talk to about it? Then I caught wind of Folsom Prison Blues. Chuck used my real name, you know!”
Now Dean was blushing. “Yeah, eventually I kind of realized that.”
“Well, no harm, no foul. I moved to Little Rock - ready to get away from Green River anyway. And usually, if anyone recognizes my name, it’s another Sister, and I invite her to a Circle, and it’s all good.”
“So you Girls, what, just talk about shit?”
“You really want to know?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“We meet once a month, but we keep tabs on the net. We track you guys and pray for you and watch out for ways we can help you. Some of us are Hunters now, you know -“ Dean rolled his eyes but I interrupted him. “Don’t you scoff! Every Hunter gets into it one way or another! Remember Haley Collins?”
Dean wrinkled his brow. “Wendigo girl?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “She’s an awesome Hunter now, plus, a librarian. Research like you wouldn’t believe. Access to texts from all over the world, give her time.”
“Huh,” Dean said, eyebrows raised.
“And I’m sure you remember Kathleen Hudak? She caught wind of us Girls about a year ago. She tried to track you Boys, but you go off the grid too often.”
“That we do,” Dean nodded, soberly. “How’s Kathleen?”
“She’s good, better now that she’s joined a Circle.”
“But the Benders were humans,” Dean said, frowning. “I thought you Girls were all wild about the Supernatural thing.”
“No, Dean. We’re wild about You,” I said gently.
That took him aback. “Me?” He made a disparaging noise. “Aw, sugar, I know I’m adorable, but I’m nothing to write home about.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean. You and Sam, you’ve gone up against just about every kind of monster, demon - hell, you’ve gone up against Angels and averted the Apocalypse! You still don’t think you’re heroes?”
Dean just shook his head for a minute, then at last he looked me in the eye.
“We’re not heroes, Mara. God knows, the things we’ve done. We’re just trying to make amends, now, however we can.”
I looked into his eyes again, like I did that day in the Green River County Detention Center, and what I saw there made me want to cry.
He was still determined, sure enough - he was a Winchester, and I don’t think they can ever give up, if they still have breath left in them.
But there was so much guilt, and pain, and sorrow, that it almost took my breath away. This is what Dean carries, every day? After everything he’s given, and done, to save people? I couldn’t stand it.
“Dean, I know the things you’ve done. We all do. That’s why we read the Gospels. You face down odds we can’t imagine, and make it okay again when the world’s about to end. We love you for that, you and Sam, despite the mistakes you’ve made or the things you think are unforgiveable. We’d never presume to put ourselves in your shoes. We just want to testify to who you really are.”
“Who we really are?” Dean said, with grit in his voice. “The guys who started the Apocalypse?”
“No,” I said firmly, “the guys who Stopped It. Who put the Angels back in their place. Who restored Lucifer to his throne in hell, and God to his throne in Heaven. We know all that, Dean, and someday, all the world will know. And we just testify to the little parts of it we know to be true.”
“Huh,” Dean said again, and wiped surreptitiously at his eyes. “Here I was coming to see if I’d done you wrong, and you think I’m some kind of hero.”
“Dean, whatever I did, I did it because I knew I had to do the right thing, just like you, no matter what if it looked wrong to someone else. You never did me any harm. I’m the better for meeting you once, five years ago.”
When Dean looked up, my heart broke all over again. He was just a little kid when he became a Hunter, and in a lot of ways that little kid never had a chance to grow up. “Really?” he said.
“Absolutely, Dean. Look, I even have the tattoo.” I pulled down my collar and showed him.
“Aw, no! You didn’t!” Dean said, but he was laughing, so it was okay.
“I sure did!” I said. “Stung like a mother!”
Then we went out for Krispy Kremes, and later, Dean called his brother, and Sam and Castiel showed up at my house, and we stayed up late, and had a few beers, and I cooked a big breakfast for them all on Sunday morning, then Castiel went his way and Sam and Dean drove off in the Impala, Her Engine roaring like you can’t imagine unless you’ve heard it for yourself.
So, I guess, thanks after all for showing Dean the Letter. It wasn’t as embarrassing as I thought it would be.
Love,
Mara