This is not anything to do with Dreaming True, the multi-chapter story I'm in the middle of but I promise I'll be posting the next chapter of that soon too...I just thought of this and decided to post this in the middle, hope that's okay!
I know I normally write Sammy fics, but this is just an idea that came to me while I was watching 'In the Beginning' and I just decided to write it down. I wondered how she would explain it all to John and what might happen to them after Dean went back to the future, so just a short oneshot about that. Hope you enjoy!
Told from the POV of the young Mary Campbell, tag to In the Beginning.
Fighting My Way
I don't reply. I can't. I'm scared I did the wrong thing. So scared...
But how can I have? He's here, sitting next to me, in the passenger seat. I insisted on driving, since he's still weak and disoriented from being killed. Not that he knows that's what happened.
"Mary, please. Tell me what happened?"
I turn to him and I can see the terror in his eyes. I love him with every fibre of my being. John. John Winchester. It's a name that promises my future. I need to believe in him. He's perfect to me, with his ready smile and the light in his eyes...not that either are present now. He looks terrified.
"Mary...what happened? I just woke up and you were holding me, I thought I was dead..."
"No," I say, I lie. "No. That man, Dean. Remember him? He shot the...the man. Just as he was about to kill you."
"But...Mary, he looked like, he looked like...your father?" He looks like he thinks he's going crazy. I think I am. I just made a deal with a demon. Of course I'm going crazy.
My parents are dead. Both of them are dead...it hurts, it hurts like hell. The fact that John's alive is the only thing keeping me from blowing my own brains out with the gun in my bag.
"It wasn't my father," I say quietly. "It was dark and I know they look, uh, similar, but...it wasn't him." He looks unconvinced but doesn't press it. Maybe he knows how much it hurts me. He'd never tell me to suck up the pain like my father would.
"Your parents are still gonna kill us, though," he whispers in the darkness. A lump rises in my throat.
"They're dead," I say. "Dead. That man killed them. They're gone."
His eyes widen and he reaches out, takes my left hand in his. "Oh God, Mary...I'm so sorry..."
I keep driving because I don't want to cry. I've done enough crying tonight and there's only one thing left for me to do. And that's...keep going, no matter what. Start again. John is my future. That's all there is to it...and when the demon comes back in ten years...
The car swerves and I choke back a sob of anguish. What have I done?
John holds on to my hand and his free one is stroking my hair. I lean into his touch, it's the most wonderful thing I can imagine. "Maybe we should stop for the night," he says, not understanding me or what I've done or why I'm running, only that I'm hurting. I shake my head, fighting to control myself. Come on. Haven't I spend my entire life learning how to do just that? Among other things, of course.
"No. I have to keep going." I barely realise I've said the words out loud.
He doesn't argue. He's the only person in the world who understands that just sometimes I need to fight my own way. Most people would tell me not to fight at all. My father would have made me do it his way. But my way can be anything-maybe playing the piano or something till I can't move my fingers any more when I'm angry. Or climbing the big old tree in my garden as high as I can safely and higher, even though I'm eighteen years old and should've grown out of it a long time ago.
Or keeping driving, keeping moving away from the place where my life became a nightmare. Not stopping. Not giving in. That's the kinda way I fight, when I have the choice.
All my life I've been trying to get away from this place. Trying to get away from hunting. It's not that I don't value saving people-it's just that sometimes the killing and blood and violence and lying just overwhelms me. Maybe I'm just a selfish b*tch. But it's the way I feel. I've done it all my life, and I just thought that now it was time to make some choices of my own. Though my Dad wouldn't let me...I could imagine him kicking me out of the house for good if I tried to go to college or something.
Only now he's gone. My mother too. Dead. Gone. Never coming back.
The car jerks across the road again and an angry truck driver narrowly missing us honks violently and makes a rude gesture as he passes. I'm panicking inside, I'm thinking, I can't take this, I can't do this...
"Mary," John says quietly. "We need to pull over. You're exhausted."
I want to fight him. I want to. But I am exhausted. I feel broken and I feel like I'm about to have a mental breakdown. I can't afford to be driving when that happens. I nod and turn off the road towards a small roadside motel with a brokenly flashing neon sign. I park and instantly slip out of the car, for a moment to compose my face before John sees my pain. He just died and he's going to need my strength too.
The woman behind the desk looks at us oddly when we ask for a room-maybe we look like we've just survived a zombie apocalypse or something. I feel like I have. Is it really so different from what has happened? But she gives us a room and we turn and head up the rickety flight of stairs, both of us desperate for a break. John unlocks the door and ushers me inside, and I flick on the light. It's a tiny little place, one queen size bed and a chest beside it, a little door leading through to a small bathroom. The walls are stained and peeling and it smells funny, but I don't care for once. Odd, because I always was a bit of a cleanliness freak. This just seems to suit my mood.
It's three in the morning. I look at John and I see the black circles under his eyes. We both need to sleep. I try to smile at him and then he reaches out and pulls me into his arms, holding me close and tight and warm, and I'm hugging him back, almost desperately. He smells of blood and fear and love. It's the most beautiful moment of my short life. I fight not to cry as we stand there, melded by a nightmare. And I'm struggling to believe in hope, and the future, once more.
Finally we break apart, mutually, and wonder what to do about the bed. Neither of us thought of this...we haven't done it before. My parents made it difficult enough to find time together to kiss...but can now really be the time? I always wanted my first time to be perfect...maybe he understands me.
"I'll sleep on the floor, then," he says, without me having said a word. I shake my head, feeling suddenly guilty.
"No. We, uh...we can...share the bed? We...don't have to take our clothes...I mean, we can wear stuff..." I stutter, awkward as hell. He smiles and shrugs. He's letting me lead the way because he thinks I'm the one more hurt. No, I want to yell. You died, John! You died! And yet here you are! I'm just the one who made a deal with a demon, like a stupid fool who doesn't ever think about the consequences...
I'm thinking of the consequences. I can't stop myself.
We change separately, modestly, stripping to our underwear and shirts, then crawl under the covers, dizzy with weariness. I've never been this close to a man before but it's okay. It's not erotic and wild and passionate, nothing like that, and I'm glad-it feels like survival to be sharing the bed, completely innocently. He turns towards me and then reaches out for my hands, holds them in his, staring into my eyes.
"Mary," he breathes. "Mary, you know I'll be here for you, don't you? No matter what. But you don't want to go back...bury your parents or something?" His voice drops with the last sentence-he's tentative, guilty. Trying to console me but not quite sure how. He has the most amazing dark eyes.
"I can't go back," I whisper. "I can't. John, can't we go away? A long way away. Start again. Please? I can't...I can't stand to..." I'm crying at last and he looks devastated, he pulls me into his arms and there's nothing dirty about it, there's just him and me and we're all each other has. He's wiping away my tears with his finger, gentle as feathers on my cheeks and I'm sobbing helplessly and he's holding me so tight and near...he's whispering words in my ear, comforting. "Shh, shh, it's okay, I'm here with you, I'll look after you, I love you..."
I look up at him. "I love you, too," I gasp. "I love you..."
"We'll go away," he says determinedly. "We'll go away and start a new life, together. We can be together our whole lives and I'll never let anything bad happen to you again, Mary. I promise."
I'm watching his face as I follow him into sleep. Trying to understand how I can have lost and gained so much...
The demon'll be back for me. I know it. Whatever it wants, whatever it'll take...I don't know, I just don't know, and I'm so scared. I'm wishing I could have said I was sorry to my father before he died. For being such a bad daughter. For...everything. How much I miss him and Mom.
How much I regret that they died. I feel like it's my fault, somehow, though I'm barely sure of the night's sequence of events any more. It's all a long black haze of terror and confusion and love and death. I know I'm not okay. I know that if I let myself close my eyes then the nightmares will take over me. I feel them there, lurking just beneath the skin. Like fire. Like blood.
But I have John and I know that he won't leave me. And as for that demon...I'll just have to wait and see. In ten years when it comes for its price I'll take the consequences on myself. I'm not sure now that it was worth it-and yet I turn and I see John's sleeping face and I'm terrified of what might have happened if I hadn't done what I did...I know I wouldn't have made it through. Maybe I'm going crazy right now, maybe. But I have John and that's something to believe in. I'm not alone. I never wanted to be alone. So I'll survive. I'm deciding here and now that I will survive. I have to be ready for when the demon comes back in ten years, ready to take whatever it can throw on my own shoulders.. Sure he said no-one need get hurt, but hell, I don't trust him as far as I could throw him. I have to be there for John. And so I have a future. I will survive.
I'm leaving hunting far behind me. I'm leaving the nightmare of this night behind me too. I don't know...maybe someday I'll come back. Maybe not. I guess I loved the little town of Lawrence. It's the town of my childhood, anyway. Yes-when I'm ready to face the truth I'll come back. It's just right now I have to get away. Me and John. Mary Winchester, I think. It's possible. It could be real.
I don't know what the future will bring. I'm remembering that strange man, Dean. What was it he said to me? Something about not getting out of bed...dammit, I can't remember. It's gone right out of my head in the chaos of everything that happened afterwards. I think it was something important...dammit! Oh well, if it was that important I guess it'll come back to me.
So I'll go on. Fighting my way, not anybody else's. I know I can do it, so long as I have John. So long as I don't give up. So long as I keep believing that I am Mary Campbell-maybe, someday, Winchester-and I fight my own way. I'll survive.
(I state that Mary is eighteen here somewhere. I don't know what age she is in the episode and if there's a way to work it out then basically I just couldn't be bothered to do the maths...also there is no sex in this. I had to mention it because of the circumstances but it the whole thing is very innocent. So sorry anyone who wants it, but I'm not writing anything like that. Also I know they end up living back in Lawrence Kansas, how could I not? But I guess they'll need a little time to get away first and then come back much later...I definitely would!)
Thank you if you bothered to read and please review!