Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?

[refrigeratormom]

Who: Mary Winchester and Magneto
When: Friday midday
Where: Outside the HoA
Summary: She's having a bad week. Month.
Warnings: Probable talk of violence, references to extremely bad parenting. Winchesters being Winchesters.

Comments

[makes_asteroids]

It was utter luck that he was outside at all Friday, typically he'd been home. But he'd needed to make a grocery run, stop at the bakery, pick up a bottle of wine, some parts for a computer, and - desperately needed - a pair of boots. He'd rip the soles off and replace them with ones made of unstable molecules. But now his knapsack was full, a net grocery bag swung from his arm, and he wanted to head home to start dinner and just relax.

As such he was hurrying home, but not so quickly he has lost awareness of his surroundings. He'd noticed since Chuck had did whatever he had done - and he was certain Chuck had done something to him that night, when the nightmare had hit them - he'd been fair less traumatized. No longer hypervigilant but vigilant none the less. And it meant he noticed someone - a woman - huddled against the side of the building. He pulled short, and approached carefully, cautiously

[refrigeratormom]

It said something about her mental state that the approach of a strange man from beyond the shadows didn't make her so much as flinch or tense. She just slumped a little further, grip tightening on the stolen NV. There was a chipmunk foraging under the bush she was staring at, moving just enough for her eyes to bore into it. So much easier than looking at another human being.

"I have two children," she said tiredly, scraping only the topmost surface of everything that was wrong. It was probably obvious in her tone, too, but for once she didn't care. "My husband has three."

[makes_asteroids]

He knelt beside her, shifting his bag to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked like she could use a good stiff drink, but he knew that didn't always help. And the part of his brain that always sounded suspiciously like his grandmother, though he should take her up to his apartment and feed her matzo ball soup and pastries.

"Was that before or after when you..." Died. "Where brought here?" Because that mattered. He might not have have fathered a child since Magda died, but he had had lovers.

[refrigeratormom]

"After." The answer came thinly, though, like it didn't really convince her. "They were still so young. Little."

She just shook her head. What little she read was too much to deal with. The more she learned about their lives, their childhoods, about her husband, the less she wished she knew. "Too young to be on their own. He- he took Adam to baseball games. I think that's more than he ever did for them."