welcome to the bottom. (closed)

[possemagnet]

Who: Dean, Sam (precogging), and his Mom shaped VC. She'll be npc'd by (refrigeratormom)
What: Killing of the VC. Potential triggers and jearsy moments.
Where: Dean's place of solace.
When: Backdated to the last day of the event.
Warnings: As said above, emotional triggers. Mentions of horrific death. Etc. Etc. The Winchester way.

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[refrigeratormom]

Mary was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and getting a chicken ready for dinner. Occasionally she forgot and almost wiped her hands on her floral dress, stopping in time and laughing to herself as she got a paper towel. The kitchen was in the back of the house, so you couldn't see the light on from the street where Dean was parked, but once inside the light filtered warmly down the hallway, a faint glow permeating even to the entry-way. She was whistling "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" just a touch off-key but paying herself no mind over the intermittent rat-a-tat-tat-tat of the knife and cutting board.

The house still had that unlived-in smell of dust to it, the dullness of disuse and general neglect.

[possemagnet]

Dean would have to be deaf not to hear it. He was focused, his mind set on a goal, and that clouded the senses some but the all too familiar sounds of dinner being made and the familiar tune to the whistling hit him like a brick

[precogging]

Sam set out to look for Dean a few hours before, but when he didn't find his brother in the usual spot, he started looking harder. It was strange to find the old Lawrence house where and when he did, but as out-of-the-ordinary as it was... it was like he knew to look for Dean there. He figured that it was as safe a bet as any, and he knocked on the door twice before stepping inside without waiting for an answer. It was his house too, after all... even if he'd left it during his infancy.

What he heard when he walked inside, however, was not something he expected. And what he saw...

Dean had his arms around a blonde that, from the back, looked exactly like their mom. His hand reached back and he placed it on his gun, just in case, but if his brother was okay with this woman... he shouldn't be that worried. Right? Upon further investigation, circling around, he saw her face.

"... Mom," he said, brow furrowing. "How..?"

[refrigeratormom]

Mary accepted Dean's hug warmly, arms tightening in the kind of uniquely all-encompassing embrace of safety that only a person's mommy can manage.

"Hi, baby," she beamed, cupping Dean's face in her hands. Sam's arrival got a little almost-chuckle out of her, more a release of breath than anything.

She gave Dean one last little squeeze before turning to her youngest son. "Sam," she reached out to him welcomingly. From one hunter to another she didn't try putting her hands on him yet, not with him looking ready to pull a gun, but her face was warm, if a little sad. "I don't know how, but I knew you'd find me."