it's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light
Who: John and Mary Winchester
When: Wednesday night
Where: their apartment and then outside somewhere
Summary: Mary tells Dean that she's letting Tom Hanniger come recover at their apartment, Dean freaks the hell out and tells her that he's the one who put Tom in the hospital, Mary reacts very badly, Dean responds by running out into the Darkness. It goes as well as you'd expect.
Warnings: Character death and general horrible.
It started so simply. Tom was getting out of the hospital. It was a wonderful thing, really- almost three months in that damn place, all from an attack that still nobody had been able to explain, that the nurses still were officially pinning on an inexplicable Darkness monster when every single person working his case knew it had to be a malicious, willful attack by another human. Those x-marks, the slices and injuries that bespoke torture and ill intent- her heart hurt to think about it and to watch him go through complication after terrible complication that kept him chained to that bed six weeks longer than he should have been.
Her offer to let him recover at her apartment held firm. She had always intended to let him come over even before John showed up in the city, and with her husband being fine with it there was nothing stopping them. The only issue was- well, a surprising one. Dean had the habit of being weird and cagey about it whenever someone brought up the man's name. At first it seemed simply one of the many strange things about Dean, but it kept getting odder- Dean was the one to smoothly introduce Tom and Mary, he was much more easy-going about the Tom issue even three months ago. His sudden discomfort with his doppleganger was just weird enough to set off Mary's latent hunter something-is-wrong sensors.
When she told him that Tom would be moving in, she wanted to get some privacy for it. Dean had a habit of acting differently around John, so she told John ahead of time what she was doing and sat Dean down in her bedroom while John watched TV in the living room one night. The conversation itself started simply- until Dean started actually freaking out and Mary, confused and alarmed, asked what was wrong. Surprisingly, it didn't take much for him to actually tell her- and then everything was clear.
Clear, and horribly, horribly confused.
Dean, her son, the one she could look at and actually see a person who she knew in, the one who made her ache inside with how much he suffered every day, told her to her face that he was the one who attacked Tom. That he was the sadistic monster who put Tom in the hospital with injuries that indicated the obvious intention to make him suffer. The revelation was like all the blood leaving her body, the air crushed from her lungs by a thousand-pound weight that was actually just her own beating heart as she stared at him in pure, raw horror.
She couldn't help it. At this point she knew Tom better than she knew Dean. As horrible as it was for her, Dean's own mother, her heart went to him first, and she stared at Dean like he was a complete monster. She tried to contain her disgust and failed miserably, asking in a hushed voice how could you?
Mom, Dean said, starting to say something - maybe some explanation, maybe something self-loathing and horrible. NO, she hissed, cutting him off and trying not to throw up. No. You- you can't be serious. And Dean just looked at her and told her yes, yes, it was true, it was, you don't understand, but didn't add anything to that cryptically terrifying statement.
The situation spiraled quietly with hissed words and piercing, revolted looks that clearly cut into Dean until he couldn't handle it any more, seeing his own beloved mother looking at him like a fucking monster and telling him it was impossible, that he couldn't do that and she didn't want to know why he did because it didn't matter. Truth be told, Mary didn't really want to hang him out to dry or run away without hearing what he had to say, but in those moments the bile rose so high in her throat and her deep horror at what her family had become was so overpowering that she couldn't think entirely rationally.
Neither could Dean. When he saw her that disgusted with him, that horrified and telling him harshly that she didn't want to hear it, he cracked. The last remnants of strength he'd been clinging to these few painful months snapped like so few brittle twigs and he ran, bolting from the room, the apartment, slamming the door behind him and just running, leaving Mary still sitting on the bed, staring in front of her with a dazed expression.
When: Wednesday night
Where: their apartment and then outside somewhere
Summary: Mary tells Dean that she's letting Tom Hanniger come recover at their apartment, Dean freaks the hell out and tells her that he's the one who put Tom in the hospital, Mary reacts very badly, Dean responds by running out into the Darkness. It goes as well as you'd expect.
Warnings: Character death and general horrible.
It started so simply. Tom was getting out of the hospital. It was a wonderful thing, really- almost three months in that damn place, all from an attack that still nobody had been able to explain, that the nurses still were officially pinning on an inexplicable Darkness monster when every single person working his case knew it had to be a malicious, willful attack by another human. Those x-marks, the slices and injuries that bespoke torture and ill intent- her heart hurt to think about it and to watch him go through complication after terrible complication that kept him chained to that bed six weeks longer than he should have been.
Her offer to let him recover at her apartment held firm. She had always intended to let him come over even before John showed up in the city, and with her husband being fine with it there was nothing stopping them. The only issue was- well, a surprising one. Dean had the habit of being weird and cagey about it whenever someone brought up the man's name. At first it seemed simply one of the many strange things about Dean, but it kept getting odder- Dean was the one to smoothly introduce Tom and Mary, he was much more easy-going about the Tom issue even three months ago. His sudden discomfort with his doppleganger was just weird enough to set off Mary's latent hunter something-is-wrong sensors.
When she told him that Tom would be moving in, she wanted to get some privacy for it. Dean had a habit of acting differently around John, so she told John ahead of time what she was doing and sat Dean down in her bedroom while John watched TV in the living room one night. The conversation itself started simply- until Dean started actually freaking out and Mary, confused and alarmed, asked what was wrong. Surprisingly, it didn't take much for him to actually tell her- and then everything was clear.
Clear, and horribly, horribly confused.
Dean, her son, the one she could look at and actually see a person who she knew in, the one who made her ache inside with how much he suffered every day, told her to her face that he was the one who attacked Tom. That he was the sadistic monster who put Tom in the hospital with injuries that indicated the obvious intention to make him suffer. The revelation was like all the blood leaving her body, the air crushed from her lungs by a thousand-pound weight that was actually just her own beating heart as she stared at him in pure, raw horror.
She couldn't help it. At this point she knew Tom better than she knew Dean. As horrible as it was for her, Dean's own mother, her heart went to him first, and she stared at Dean like he was a complete monster. She tried to contain her disgust and failed miserably, asking in a hushed voice how could you?
Mom, Dean said, starting to say something - maybe some explanation, maybe something self-loathing and horrible. NO, she hissed, cutting him off and trying not to throw up. No. You- you can't be serious. And Dean just looked at her and told her yes, yes, it was true, it was, you don't understand, but didn't add anything to that cryptically terrifying statement.
The situation spiraled quietly with hissed words and piercing, revolted looks that clearly cut into Dean until he couldn't handle it any more, seeing his own beloved mother looking at him like a fucking monster and telling him it was impossible, that he couldn't do that and she didn't want to know why he did because it didn't matter. Truth be told, Mary didn't really want to hang him out to dry or run away without hearing what he had to say, but in those moments the bile rose so high in her throat and her deep horror at what her family had become was so overpowering that she couldn't think entirely rationally.
Neither could Dean. When he saw her that disgusted with him, that horrified and telling him harshly that she didn't want to hear it, he cracked. The last remnants of strength he'd been clinging to these few painful months snapped like so few brittle twigs and he ran, bolting from the room, the apartment, slamming the door behind him and just running, leaving Mary still sitting on the bed, staring in front of her with a dazed expression.