Open Sky for Mads
Apologies! The Summergen Fairy forgot to post yesterday, so you get TWO today!
Title: Open Sky
Recipient: Mads
Rating: T (for language and references to abuse)
Word Count: 3202
Warnings: non-explicit references to canon abuse; brief depiction of a panic attack
Summary: Magda lives, and ends up spending some time at the bunker.
She's scared of how easy it is, to just react. Gun, fear, react. It’s not even a conscious sequence of events, but she knows fear and it courses through her as the gun floats between her and the stranger, who is reaching--
Magda screams, letting the gun drop to the floor where the man can't reach it, screams and makes a run for the door, flinging out her power to hold him in place until she passes. The other passengers are running over, and she dives into the midst of them, trying to find her voice and all she can muster is "gun."
She thought the man would run, but, oh no oh no no no no he's coming towards them he has the gun again and this time it is conscious because what else can she do? She rips the gun from his hand and brings the butt of it cracking down on his skull.
The other bus passengers slowly turn to stare at her.
"I'm sorry," she says, reaching for a whip that isn't there. "I'm sorry, I didn't--"
A hand lands on her shoulder. "Are you all right?" a woman asks.
Magda blinks. "What?"
Another passenger approaches the gunman, kicks the gun away, then starts patting him down. "Holy hell," he says, finding myriad concealed weapons. "You piss off the mob or something?" he throws over his shoulder at Magda.
She shakes her head.
"Leave her alone, can't you see she's terrified?" the woman who still has her hand on Magda's shoulder says sharply.
"OK, but I'm calling the police."
Murmurs of agreement from the other passengers, some of whom step forward to help disarm the gunman and get his weapons away from him.
“Is there someone you can call?” the woman asks, and yeah, there is.
*
She isn’t sure how they get it cleared with the cops and CPS, but Sam sits in the back of the loud black car with her and she leans her head on his shoulder and doesn’t really care where it is they’re going. He said it’s safe, and she believes him.
*
Magda freezes on the landing, looking down at the bunker. Down. Underground.
“What?” snaps Dean, pausing halfway down the stairs when he realizes she and Sam, Sam who stops when she does, who has a supportive hand under her elbow, aren’t right behind them.
“Dean, they kept her in the basement,” Sam says, then turns to her. “I’m sorry Magda, I didn’t think, I should’ve warned you, we can work something else out-“
“No, it’s OK,” she says, squaring her shoulders. “I can do it.”
“Yeah, OK,” Dean says dismissively, and clomps the rest of the way down the stairs.
Magda’s steps down are slow but steady, and Sam keeps pace with her the whole way.
*
“I don’t want to be powerful, I just want to not hurt anyone,” she tells Sam the next day.
His smile is strange and pained. “I get that, I do. Believe me. But not hurting anyone means learning control. It’s like, OK, forgive the comparison, but did you know that in order to teach a dog to stop doing something on command, first you have to teach them to do it on command?”
She shakes her head.
“Like with barking, right? They don’t know they’re doing anything wrong, so the most effective way to teach them not to do it is to first teach them to do it when you say, and then introduce the concept of not doing it when you say. Obviously you’re a person, you’re a lot smarter than a dog, but in order to not use your powers first you have to understand how to use them, right?”
“I guess that makes sense. But I’m scared it will be . . . like before. When I . . .”
“No, I know. But you didn’t know what you were doing, you didn’t know that reaching out was transferring your pain. We’ll start small, just moving objects, that kind of thing, then once you have that under control we’ll see about the mind to mind stuff. Sound good?”
“Yeah.”
*
She’s going to the kitchen for a snack (being able to eat whenever she is hungry is still so strange, it always takes her a moment to remember that she doesn’t have to wait for someone to bring a tray, she can go herself and choose her own food) when the sound of Dean’s voice, slightly raised and angry, stops her.
“Lucifer’s still out there, and the Brits, Mom’s hunting, but sure, babysitting is the most important thing right now!”
“Cas and Crowley are on Lucifer, we’ve warned everyone we know about the Brits and they’re passing it on, the cops have a nationwide alert for their hitman, and Mom is an adult who’s free to make her own choices. Why are you so against me helping Magda?”
“I don’t know, did you maybe consider that you’re kind of her Ruby?”
The pause suggests that Dean has said something ugly, and Magda wonders who Ruby is, what she did.
“Did you really just say that to me?” Sam asks, soft and aching. “You really think I would . . . it’s not the same at all.”
“OK, maybe not, but what about you? Are you using?”
“What?”
“I don’t know how this works, but isn’t it a little hard for you to be Mr. Miyagi if you don’t have the juice?”
Magda risks peering around the corner and sees Sam leaning against a counter, running his hand through his hair. Dean stands in front of the table, arms folded, staring hard at Sam.
“No, I’m not . . . using, and I can’t believe you would even think . . . and no, I don’t have to be able to do it now in order to help her figure out how her abilities work and how to control them. I remember what it felt like, how it worked for me. And don’t forget, I could do things before Ruby, and she said, right before you showed up, when she didn’t have any reason to lie anymore because it was done and there was no undoing it, she said I never needed the feather to fly. Like maybe my power didn’t come from the blood. But I never tried, I never wanted to try, I’ve been scared to death of it ever since. So no, Dean, I’m not doing anything other than trying to help someone understand their abilities and make sure they’re in control of them. I’m trying to give Magda what I never had.”
“All right, all right, Jesus, I was just asking.” Dean sits down, and Magda sees a partially eaten plate of food. Sam picks up a mug from the counter and it’s only as he comes towards her that Magda realizes it’s too late to pretend she wasn’t there, so she just turns and quietly paces away, knowing Sam will catch her.
He does, and looks startled, but simply motions for her to follow him to the library before saying anything. “How much did you hear?” he asks once he sits down.
“Who’s Ruby?”
Sam sighs, scrubs his hand down his face. “She was a demon. Made us think she was on our side. I was stupid to believe her. She trained me to use my powers, taught me how to get stronger. I thought it was a “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” thing, but it wasn’t, it was a “trick the gullible dumbass into doing exactly what we want” thing.”
“Hard to imagine you being a dumbass. Or gullible. I mean, you saw right through my mom, and she puts on a good show.”
“I like to think I’ve learned my lesson. It was a long time ago.”
“But Dean still brought it up.”
“There are some things Dean isn’t ever going to forget.” Or forgive hung unsaid in the air between them.
“So, getting stronger, drugs were part of it? Since Dean asked if you were using?”
“Yeah, kinda. One thing in particular that should’ve been the flashing neon warning sign I needed to not go down that path, but I was pretty messed up, just wanted the power to do something, to fix something, no matter the cost to me.”
“Sounds like quite a story.”
“Yeah, and not a nice one. But I’ll tell you if you want. You’re like me, and I’d hate to see you repeat anything like my mistakes just because you didn’t know what they were.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she reminds him. He takes a deep breath, but before he can begin she interrupts, “including you. Will it hurt, to tell me? It feels like it will hurt.”
Sam cocks his head a little. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just a feeling like . . . oh. Oh no. Oh, Sam, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” She’s kneeling on the floor before she can stop to think about it, head bowed, saying the words, maybe if she says the words fast and fervent Mother won’t hand her the whip, won’t make her-
“Hey hey hey hey,” Sam says, crouching in front of her, holding her upper arms gently but firmly. “Magda, it’s OK, I’m not upset, you aren’t in trouble, c’mon, get up, there you go.” He helps her back into her chair, then squats in front of her. “It’s OK,” he repeats. “You didn’t mean to, and I’m not upset, just worried. I have a lot of messed up crap clunking around up here,” he gestures at his head, “and I’d hate for you to have to deal with that on top of your own stuff. Right now your powers operate on instinct, and that’s fine. I’m gonna help you learn to bring them all under conscious control, right? Or try my best, anyway. You aren’t in trouble, you’ll never be in trouble, not with me.”
“OK. Sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Old habits die hard, especially . . . anyway.”
Magda concentrates on not looking for what Sam had been going to say after “especially,” so all she gets is the briefest flash of bone-deep cold of an intensity she didn’t know was possible. She shivers.
“Oh, God, sorry,” Sam says.
“No, it’s OK, I only got the cold, nothing else because I stopped myself. That’s good, right, that I felt myself doing it and stopped?”
“Yeah, Magda, that’s really good.” He sounds relieved, and it’s tempting to look, to see what exactly he means by “messed up crap,” but she resists. He blows out a breath. “Anyway, uh, Ruby. Basically, there was this plan to set Lucifer free-“
“Wait, like the devil? The actual devil? He’s real? That wasn’t, like, a codename or something Dean was using?”
“Yeah, he’s real. Very, very real.” She gets another flash of cold. “But he’s not what your family said he was, not really. He’s bad, evil, but he doesn’t go around giving out powers or offering personalized temptations. That’s all beneath him, as far as he’s concerned.”
“If you say so.”
Sam huffs a laugh. “He was locked up in a cage in hell, and there was a plan to set him free so he could fight the archangel Michael, which would’ve wrecked at least half the planet. Dean and I were part of that plan. My part was to get powerful enough to kill the demon Lilith, which broke the final seal keeping Lucifer locked up. I didn’t know that’s what I was doing, I thought killing her was a good thing, she did a lot of terrible things, including . . . but it doesn’t matter. I did it, and Lucifer got out, and a lot of people died. Ruby was the one who helped me get strong, who taught me that if I . . .” He swallows, then continues. “If I drank demon blood, it would make me stronger. And I was using my powers to exorcise demons, send them back to hell without killing the possessed person, so I thought, who cares how I’m doing it, as long as I am. And Lilith was making sure all the other seals on the cage were getting broken, so I thought killing her would prevent the apocalypse. Ruby made sure that’s what I thought.”
“So when Dean asked if you were ‘using,’ he was asking if you were drinking . . . blood?”
“Yeah.”
“But if you were saving people, I mean, sure ‘demon blood’ sounds gross, but you thought you were doing the right thing. I bet the people you saved would say you were.”
“Dean doesn’t see it that way.”
“Screw Dean.”
“He’s my brother.”
“So? I had a brother. He knew what my parents were doing to me and he didn’t do anything to help. He believed them when they said I caused the accident because I was evil, but I just made a mistake, right? That’s what you said, that I just made a mistake?”
“Yes, Magda, of course!”
“How is it not the same, then?”
“I was raised to hunt monsters, but I still chose to trust a demon. I wanted to be a hero so badly that I ignored the signs that I was on the wrong path, and other people paid for it.”
“And you didn’t? You just got off free and clear, no consequences?”
“I’d earned some consequences.”
“You’re just saying the stuff you told me not to say because it isn’t true.” She’s feeling defiant and angry, like she used to with her parents sometimes back before the accident. When they said stupid things like “because I said so” or “you’ll understand when you have kids.” Reasons that weren’t reasons. “My mom always told me I’d earned my punishments, that it was all my fault for giving in. You and CPS and the doctors and everyone not my family says that isn’t true, that it was my family’s choice to punish me, not mine. Who makes the choices, Sam? Who’s at fault?” Magda’s voice cracks, and there are tears running down her face. She went into this argument thinking she knew the answer, but she doesn’t. “Who’s at fault?” she whispers.
Sam pulls her into a hug. “Not you,” he tells her. “The things you did with your powers were accidents, and nobody deserves what your family did to you because of an accident.”
She sniffles. “Not you either, then.”
“Magda-“
She pulls back and gives him a watery smile. “Can’t have it both ways. I’m a teenager, if I’m gonna be normal I gotta practice seeing through adult bullshit, it’s part of the job.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, not me either.”
She’s not sure she believes him, but it’s a start, and at least he’s sure about her, because she sure the hell isn’t. “So the lesson is, know how to control what I can do, and be careful who I trust, is that about it?”
“Yeah, that’s about it.”
“Cool.” She steals his coffee, and he pretends to be outraged before going off to make more.
*
Magda’s been at the bunker for two weeks when she accidentally finds the dungeon. Sam and Dean are off on a case, something about Nazi necromancers, and she’s alone.
Neither brother had wanted to leave her alone, Dean because he didn’t trust her, Sam because he was worried about her, but Dean hadn’t wanted to drive hours out of their way to drop her off with someone named Jody, so she’d reassured Sam that she’d be fine, after all, there was still a lot of pop culture to catch up on, and flipped Dean the bird behind Sam’s back when he hugged her goodbye.
She’s taking a break from Netflix bingeing to explore the library, see if she can find more information on people like her and whether they lived normal lives, or at least could’ve if they wanted to, when she notices the scuff marks on the floor. Secret room in a secret bunker, that tracks, but she isn’t ready for a fucking dungeon with fucking manacles and she can’t move can’t breathe heart racing the room starts to shake, Dean was right I can’t be trusted flits across her mind, And it’s that thought the makes her angry enough to rein in the power and channel it into slamming the shelves back into place, because like fuck is she going to let Dean be right, about her or Sam.
It feels like several minutes before her breathing is under control and she can move again. She slowly, shakily replaces folders that fell during her brief loss of control, and as she does a thought forms, bright and clear and insistent: she can’t stay here. She needs light and air, a place without the weight of earth overhead, without the weight of judgment and mistrust.
Magda briefly considers walking into town and hitchhiking out, but Lebanon is tiny, and after what happened on the bus ride, she isn’t eager to travel alone. She’ll wait until Sam gets home-he’ll understand, and Dean will be glad to be rid of her. She’ll practice and practice, prove she has control, so he won’t worry about taking her to her aunt. To a California ranch under the open sky.
And after all, isn’t what she did even in the midst of panic proof of how far she’s come in only a week? She didn’t blast the room apart, didn’t blow a hole in the ceiling to let in the friendly sky.
Yes, she can do this. She has to.
*
“I’m really proud of you,” Sam says when they’re almost to her aunt’s place.
Magda doesn’t know what to say to that.
“It’s not easy,” he continues, “to go through what you did and still be able to identify what you need and ask for it. That’s a really big step.”
“Well, kids are resilient, right?”
He glances at her and returns her smirk. “Right. But seriously, you’ve done amazing. I really think you’re gonna be OK. Just try not to get discouraged if it takes you a while to figure out what OK is.”
“Deal.”
They turn into the driveway. In some ways it’s like her family’s place in Mason City, but there are important differences: power lines, a satellite dish, vehicles in the driveway. Everything from he buildings to the pack of dogs coming to greet them looks friendly and welcoming.
A new beginning under a warm, open sky.
Title: Open Sky
Recipient: Mads
Rating: T (for language and references to abuse)
Word Count: 3202
Warnings: non-explicit references to canon abuse; brief depiction of a panic attack
Summary: Magda lives, and ends up spending some time at the bunker.
She's scared of how easy it is, to just react. Gun, fear, react. It’s not even a conscious sequence of events, but she knows fear and it courses through her as the gun floats between her and the stranger, who is reaching--
Magda screams, letting the gun drop to the floor where the man can't reach it, screams and makes a run for the door, flinging out her power to hold him in place until she passes. The other passengers are running over, and she dives into the midst of them, trying to find her voice and all she can muster is "gun."
She thought the man would run, but, oh no oh no no no no he's coming towards them he has the gun again and this time it is conscious because what else can she do? She rips the gun from his hand and brings the butt of it cracking down on his skull.
The other bus passengers slowly turn to stare at her.
"I'm sorry," she says, reaching for a whip that isn't there. "I'm sorry, I didn't--"
A hand lands on her shoulder. "Are you all right?" a woman asks.
Magda blinks. "What?"
Another passenger approaches the gunman, kicks the gun away, then starts patting him down. "Holy hell," he says, finding myriad concealed weapons. "You piss off the mob or something?" he throws over his shoulder at Magda.
She shakes her head.
"Leave her alone, can't you see she's terrified?" the woman who still has her hand on Magda's shoulder says sharply.
"OK, but I'm calling the police."
Murmurs of agreement from the other passengers, some of whom step forward to help disarm the gunman and get his weapons away from him.
“Is there someone you can call?” the woman asks, and yeah, there is.
*
She isn’t sure how they get it cleared with the cops and CPS, but Sam sits in the back of the loud black car with her and she leans her head on his shoulder and doesn’t really care where it is they’re going. He said it’s safe, and she believes him.
*
Magda freezes on the landing, looking down at the bunker. Down. Underground.
“What?” snaps Dean, pausing halfway down the stairs when he realizes she and Sam, Sam who stops when she does, who has a supportive hand under her elbow, aren’t right behind them.
“Dean, they kept her in the basement,” Sam says, then turns to her. “I’m sorry Magda, I didn’t think, I should’ve warned you, we can work something else out-“
“No, it’s OK,” she says, squaring her shoulders. “I can do it.”
“Yeah, OK,” Dean says dismissively, and clomps the rest of the way down the stairs.
Magda’s steps down are slow but steady, and Sam keeps pace with her the whole way.
*
“I don’t want to be powerful, I just want to not hurt anyone,” she tells Sam the next day.
His smile is strange and pained. “I get that, I do. Believe me. But not hurting anyone means learning control. It’s like, OK, forgive the comparison, but did you know that in order to teach a dog to stop doing something on command, first you have to teach them to do it on command?”
She shakes her head.
“Like with barking, right? They don’t know they’re doing anything wrong, so the most effective way to teach them not to do it is to first teach them to do it when you say, and then introduce the concept of not doing it when you say. Obviously you’re a person, you’re a lot smarter than a dog, but in order to not use your powers first you have to understand how to use them, right?”
“I guess that makes sense. But I’m scared it will be . . . like before. When I . . .”
“No, I know. But you didn’t know what you were doing, you didn’t know that reaching out was transferring your pain. We’ll start small, just moving objects, that kind of thing, then once you have that under control we’ll see about the mind to mind stuff. Sound good?”
“Yeah.”
*
She’s going to the kitchen for a snack (being able to eat whenever she is hungry is still so strange, it always takes her a moment to remember that she doesn’t have to wait for someone to bring a tray, she can go herself and choose her own food) when the sound of Dean’s voice, slightly raised and angry, stops her.
“Lucifer’s still out there, and the Brits, Mom’s hunting, but sure, babysitting is the most important thing right now!”
“Cas and Crowley are on Lucifer, we’ve warned everyone we know about the Brits and they’re passing it on, the cops have a nationwide alert for their hitman, and Mom is an adult who’s free to make her own choices. Why are you so against me helping Magda?”
“I don’t know, did you maybe consider that you’re kind of her Ruby?”
The pause suggests that Dean has said something ugly, and Magda wonders who Ruby is, what she did.
“Did you really just say that to me?” Sam asks, soft and aching. “You really think I would . . . it’s not the same at all.”
“OK, maybe not, but what about you? Are you using?”
“What?”
“I don’t know how this works, but isn’t it a little hard for you to be Mr. Miyagi if you don’t have the juice?”
Magda risks peering around the corner and sees Sam leaning against a counter, running his hand through his hair. Dean stands in front of the table, arms folded, staring hard at Sam.
“No, I’m not . . . using, and I can’t believe you would even think . . . and no, I don’t have to be able to do it now in order to help her figure out how her abilities work and how to control them. I remember what it felt like, how it worked for me. And don’t forget, I could do things before Ruby, and she said, right before you showed up, when she didn’t have any reason to lie anymore because it was done and there was no undoing it, she said I never needed the feather to fly. Like maybe my power didn’t come from the blood. But I never tried, I never wanted to try, I’ve been scared to death of it ever since. So no, Dean, I’m not doing anything other than trying to help someone understand their abilities and make sure they’re in control of them. I’m trying to give Magda what I never had.”
“All right, all right, Jesus, I was just asking.” Dean sits down, and Magda sees a partially eaten plate of food. Sam picks up a mug from the counter and it’s only as he comes towards her that Magda realizes it’s too late to pretend she wasn’t there, so she just turns and quietly paces away, knowing Sam will catch her.
He does, and looks startled, but simply motions for her to follow him to the library before saying anything. “How much did you hear?” he asks once he sits down.
“Who’s Ruby?”
Sam sighs, scrubs his hand down his face. “She was a demon. Made us think she was on our side. I was stupid to believe her. She trained me to use my powers, taught me how to get stronger. I thought it was a “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” thing, but it wasn’t, it was a “trick the gullible dumbass into doing exactly what we want” thing.”
“Hard to imagine you being a dumbass. Or gullible. I mean, you saw right through my mom, and she puts on a good show.”
“I like to think I’ve learned my lesson. It was a long time ago.”
“But Dean still brought it up.”
“There are some things Dean isn’t ever going to forget.” Or forgive hung unsaid in the air between them.
“So, getting stronger, drugs were part of it? Since Dean asked if you were using?”
“Yeah, kinda. One thing in particular that should’ve been the flashing neon warning sign I needed to not go down that path, but I was pretty messed up, just wanted the power to do something, to fix something, no matter the cost to me.”
“Sounds like quite a story.”
“Yeah, and not a nice one. But I’ll tell you if you want. You’re like me, and I’d hate to see you repeat anything like my mistakes just because you didn’t know what they were.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she reminds him. He takes a deep breath, but before he can begin she interrupts, “including you. Will it hurt, to tell me? It feels like it will hurt.”
Sam cocks his head a little. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just a feeling like . . . oh. Oh no. Oh, Sam, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” She’s kneeling on the floor before she can stop to think about it, head bowed, saying the words, maybe if she says the words fast and fervent Mother won’t hand her the whip, won’t make her-
“Hey hey hey hey,” Sam says, crouching in front of her, holding her upper arms gently but firmly. “Magda, it’s OK, I’m not upset, you aren’t in trouble, c’mon, get up, there you go.” He helps her back into her chair, then squats in front of her. “It’s OK,” he repeats. “You didn’t mean to, and I’m not upset, just worried. I have a lot of messed up crap clunking around up here,” he gestures at his head, “and I’d hate for you to have to deal with that on top of your own stuff. Right now your powers operate on instinct, and that’s fine. I’m gonna help you learn to bring them all under conscious control, right? Or try my best, anyway. You aren’t in trouble, you’ll never be in trouble, not with me.”
“OK. Sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Old habits die hard, especially . . . anyway.”
Magda concentrates on not looking for what Sam had been going to say after “especially,” so all she gets is the briefest flash of bone-deep cold of an intensity she didn’t know was possible. She shivers.
“Oh, God, sorry,” Sam says.
“No, it’s OK, I only got the cold, nothing else because I stopped myself. That’s good, right, that I felt myself doing it and stopped?”
“Yeah, Magda, that’s really good.” He sounds relieved, and it’s tempting to look, to see what exactly he means by “messed up crap,” but she resists. He blows out a breath. “Anyway, uh, Ruby. Basically, there was this plan to set Lucifer free-“
“Wait, like the devil? The actual devil? He’s real? That wasn’t, like, a codename or something Dean was using?”
“Yeah, he’s real. Very, very real.” She gets another flash of cold. “But he’s not what your family said he was, not really. He’s bad, evil, but he doesn’t go around giving out powers or offering personalized temptations. That’s all beneath him, as far as he’s concerned.”
“If you say so.”
Sam huffs a laugh. “He was locked up in a cage in hell, and there was a plan to set him free so he could fight the archangel Michael, which would’ve wrecked at least half the planet. Dean and I were part of that plan. My part was to get powerful enough to kill the demon Lilith, which broke the final seal keeping Lucifer locked up. I didn’t know that’s what I was doing, I thought killing her was a good thing, she did a lot of terrible things, including . . . but it doesn’t matter. I did it, and Lucifer got out, and a lot of people died. Ruby was the one who helped me get strong, who taught me that if I . . .” He swallows, then continues. “If I drank demon blood, it would make me stronger. And I was using my powers to exorcise demons, send them back to hell without killing the possessed person, so I thought, who cares how I’m doing it, as long as I am. And Lilith was making sure all the other seals on the cage were getting broken, so I thought killing her would prevent the apocalypse. Ruby made sure that’s what I thought.”
“So when Dean asked if you were ‘using,’ he was asking if you were drinking . . . blood?”
“Yeah.”
“But if you were saving people, I mean, sure ‘demon blood’ sounds gross, but you thought you were doing the right thing. I bet the people you saved would say you were.”
“Dean doesn’t see it that way.”
“Screw Dean.”
“He’s my brother.”
“So? I had a brother. He knew what my parents were doing to me and he didn’t do anything to help. He believed them when they said I caused the accident because I was evil, but I just made a mistake, right? That’s what you said, that I just made a mistake?”
“Yes, Magda, of course!”
“How is it not the same, then?”
“I was raised to hunt monsters, but I still chose to trust a demon. I wanted to be a hero so badly that I ignored the signs that I was on the wrong path, and other people paid for it.”
“And you didn’t? You just got off free and clear, no consequences?”
“I’d earned some consequences.”
“You’re just saying the stuff you told me not to say because it isn’t true.” She’s feeling defiant and angry, like she used to with her parents sometimes back before the accident. When they said stupid things like “because I said so” or “you’ll understand when you have kids.” Reasons that weren’t reasons. “My mom always told me I’d earned my punishments, that it was all my fault for giving in. You and CPS and the doctors and everyone not my family says that isn’t true, that it was my family’s choice to punish me, not mine. Who makes the choices, Sam? Who’s at fault?” Magda’s voice cracks, and there are tears running down her face. She went into this argument thinking she knew the answer, but she doesn’t. “Who’s at fault?” she whispers.
Sam pulls her into a hug. “Not you,” he tells her. “The things you did with your powers were accidents, and nobody deserves what your family did to you because of an accident.”
She sniffles. “Not you either, then.”
“Magda-“
She pulls back and gives him a watery smile. “Can’t have it both ways. I’m a teenager, if I’m gonna be normal I gotta practice seeing through adult bullshit, it’s part of the job.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, not me either.”
She’s not sure she believes him, but it’s a start, and at least he’s sure about her, because she sure the hell isn’t. “So the lesson is, know how to control what I can do, and be careful who I trust, is that about it?”
“Yeah, that’s about it.”
“Cool.” She steals his coffee, and he pretends to be outraged before going off to make more.
*
Magda’s been at the bunker for two weeks when she accidentally finds the dungeon. Sam and Dean are off on a case, something about Nazi necromancers, and she’s alone.
Neither brother had wanted to leave her alone, Dean because he didn’t trust her, Sam because he was worried about her, but Dean hadn’t wanted to drive hours out of their way to drop her off with someone named Jody, so she’d reassured Sam that she’d be fine, after all, there was still a lot of pop culture to catch up on, and flipped Dean the bird behind Sam’s back when he hugged her goodbye.
She’s taking a break from Netflix bingeing to explore the library, see if she can find more information on people like her and whether they lived normal lives, or at least could’ve if they wanted to, when she notices the scuff marks on the floor. Secret room in a secret bunker, that tracks, but she isn’t ready for a fucking dungeon with fucking manacles and she can’t move can’t breathe heart racing the room starts to shake, Dean was right I can’t be trusted flits across her mind, And it’s that thought the makes her angry enough to rein in the power and channel it into slamming the shelves back into place, because like fuck is she going to let Dean be right, about her or Sam.
It feels like several minutes before her breathing is under control and she can move again. She slowly, shakily replaces folders that fell during her brief loss of control, and as she does a thought forms, bright and clear and insistent: she can’t stay here. She needs light and air, a place without the weight of earth overhead, without the weight of judgment and mistrust.
Magda briefly considers walking into town and hitchhiking out, but Lebanon is tiny, and after what happened on the bus ride, she isn’t eager to travel alone. She’ll wait until Sam gets home-he’ll understand, and Dean will be glad to be rid of her. She’ll practice and practice, prove she has control, so he won’t worry about taking her to her aunt. To a California ranch under the open sky.
And after all, isn’t what she did even in the midst of panic proof of how far she’s come in only a week? She didn’t blast the room apart, didn’t blow a hole in the ceiling to let in the friendly sky.
Yes, she can do this. She has to.
*
“I’m really proud of you,” Sam says when they’re almost to her aunt’s place.
Magda doesn’t know what to say to that.
“It’s not easy,” he continues, “to go through what you did and still be able to identify what you need and ask for it. That’s a really big step.”
“Well, kids are resilient, right?”
He glances at her and returns her smirk. “Right. But seriously, you’ve done amazing. I really think you’re gonna be OK. Just try not to get discouraged if it takes you a while to figure out what OK is.”
“Deal.”
They turn into the driveway. In some ways it’s like her family’s place in Mason City, but there are important differences: power lines, a satellite dish, vehicles in the driveway. Everything from he buildings to the pack of dogs coming to greet them looks friendly and welcoming.
A new beginning under a warm, open sky.