spn fic: "Angels and Lies" (Gen, Mary)
Dec. 21st, 2011 10:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fannishlisstitle: Angels and Lies
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fannishliss
rating: G, no spoilers, no warnings
character: Mary Campbell Winchester
words: ~400
formercuryblue144 in response to her Song prompt : Mary, Mary, by SJ Tucker.
===
Years pass and memories fade.
Cousins came by night, emptied out the big house, and its sale bought Mary and her new husband a quiet place on a quiet street, a house without a safe room, a house without an armory. They shook their heads at her but nobody tells a Campbell what to do.
Mary lives her quiet lie content. John is a good man, a strong man. In his way, he's not even a civilian. She's seen him clean his guns — a hunting rifle, a handgun — but never once has he forged a silver bullet. Never once has he blessed rounds of iron, or gripped a rosary in panicked haste over a bathroom sink of salted water.
A handful of years brings her a blessing, a boy they name John Dean. Little Dean is Mary's delight, her comfort, and her bliss, his big eyes locked with her as he nurses and learns to smile, laugh, babble and toddle. Angels are watching over him — it's a truth carved into her soul.
Mary lies on, forgetting, the years a sweet vacancy, and she tells herself the lunacy was the life she used to live, not the one she's living now.
The runes her cousins scrawled by night into the window sills fade while John sleeps sound.
She tells her son the Angels are bringing him a baby brother. A voice in her ear hisses "Samael" and she willfully misunderstands. John says, "His name is Samuel Campbell Winchester" and Mary thinks after all this time, it must be fine. Years and years and nothing. Everything must be fine.
Lunacy, lies, love and life are consumed by the fire of an instant's searing truth, the foul egg stench of her old enemy. She struggles in vain on the ceiling, eyes open at last.
....enmity between thee and the woman, between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel....
She tells herself she'll look down from heaven and bless the baby licking his lips. Surely the Angels guarding his brother will watch over him as well?
John stares up at her in horror, hands the baby to Dean and tells him to run. Mary! Mary! he screams, driven back by the blaze, lost. So innocent, so vulnerable — damned by her lies to a life she failed to fit them for.
With her last agonized heartbeat she begs the Angels to watch over them all, in hopes a mother's dying prayer might entreat the will of Heaven, despite the clinging stench of hellfire, sulfur, ash, and regret.
author:
fannishlissrating: G, no spoilers, no warnings
character: Mary Campbell Winchester
words: ~400
for
mercuryblue144 in response to her Song prompt : Mary, Mary, by SJ Tucker.===
Years pass and memories fade.
Cousins came by night, emptied out the big house, and its sale bought Mary and her new husband a quiet place on a quiet street, a house without a safe room, a house without an armory. They shook their heads at her but nobody tells a Campbell what to do.
Mary lives her quiet lie content. John is a good man, a strong man. In his way, he's not even a civilian. She's seen him clean his guns — a hunting rifle, a handgun — but never once has he forged a silver bullet. Never once has he blessed rounds of iron, or gripped a rosary in panicked haste over a bathroom sink of salted water.
A handful of years brings her a blessing, a boy they name John Dean. Little Dean is Mary's delight, her comfort, and her bliss, his big eyes locked with her as he nurses and learns to smile, laugh, babble and toddle. Angels are watching over him — it's a truth carved into her soul.
Mary lies on, forgetting, the years a sweet vacancy, and she tells herself the lunacy was the life she used to live, not the one she's living now.
The runes her cousins scrawled by night into the window sills fade while John sleeps sound.
She tells her son the Angels are bringing him a baby brother. A voice in her ear hisses "Samael" and she willfully misunderstands. John says, "His name is Samuel Campbell Winchester" and Mary thinks after all this time, it must be fine. Years and years and nothing. Everything must be fine.
Lunacy, lies, love and life are consumed by the fire of an instant's searing truth, the foul egg stench of her old enemy. She struggles in vain on the ceiling, eyes open at last.
....enmity between thee and the woman, between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel....
She tells herself she'll look down from heaven and bless the baby licking his lips. Surely the Angels guarding his brother will watch over him as well?
John stares up at her in horror, hands the baby to Dean and tells him to run. Mary! Mary! he screams, driven back by the blaze, lost. So innocent, so vulnerable — damned by her lies to a life she failed to fit them for.
With her last agonized heartbeat she begs the Angels to watch over them all, in hopes a mother's dying prayer might entreat the will of Heaven, despite the clinging stench of hellfire, sulfur, ash, and regret.
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Date: 2011-12-21 10:53 pm (UTC)This is beautiful.
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Date: 2011-12-22 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-22 02:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-22 03:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-22 03:16 am (UTC)