st_andingtall | [For Mary] Talking, backdated to closer to arrival

Entry tags:

mary,
sam

[For Mary] Talking, backdated to closer to arrival

A little while after his mom had arrived, Sam called her room and invited her to join him for a meal. It felt awkward and uncomfortable, but it was the right thing to do. Since she agreed, he arranged to meet her out by the pool.

It was a pleasant evening, and several heat lamps had been placed around the bar to make taking meals outside more comfortable. Kitty had seen him go out and gave him a thumbs up to say she'd check on him and his guest later. He sat and waited for her to arrived, fingers tapping awkwardly on the table.

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She closed her eyes for a moment as she processed the news and tried not to let the guilt consume her at that moment. Mary exhaled quietly and opened her eyes to look back at her son. "I'm sorry Sam." She paused, looking at him as she processed more. "... You went to Standford?"

"I don't blame you for Jess." It was hard to say and probably the first time he'd admitted it. But he felt a little better when he did. "That was all Azazel."

He shrugged at her question, one shoulder rolling in a gesture he'd unconsciously picked up from his father. "Yeah, I went to Stanford. Full ride. Dad and Dean didn't even know I applied. They didn't want me to go, either." She didn't need to know that Dad had told him not to bother coming back.

This time her expression soured a bit. "Well that's ridiculous. College is important and the fact you got a full ride into Stanord." She shook her head, sighing a she sat back a little. "I'm sorry."

The smile that flickered over his face was something like triumph. He'd always thought she'd understand. "I was going to law school in the fall, before Dean came to get my help finding Dad," he told her. And then felt, in fairness, he ought to explain, "It wasn't all their fault. I was stubborn and I wanted something more than being a hunter. Dad and Dean felt like I was giving up on getting revenge for you."

Mary knew a lot about revenge. Her father had been driven by it once or twice as well. She gave a soft sigh. "You shouldn't have had to revenge me." If she could have some words with John, she would, but he was dead too and the thought quickly faded. What was done was done.

"Being here... do you like it?"

That...wasn't a question he'd been expecting. "I'm used to it." He pushed a hand through his bangs, and then let it fall. "There are good things about it. People I wouldn't have met."

Girls he wouldn't be with.

"Like River. My...well, she's sort of my roommate. Have you met her yet?"

"I haven't, actually." She leaned in a little bit. "Is she nice?"

Sam remembered the night on the boat, smiled a little and then shook his head. "Nice isn't really a word that applies to River. Sometimes she's really sweet. Sometimes she's just really strange. She doesn't understand nice or polite or anything but the truth and what she's thinking right then."

He upchinned when he saw Kitty approaching, paused and waited for her to take his order and Mom's and then waited for Kitty to leave again before starting again.

"River's...messed up. When she was younger, they did something to her brain. Now she's got telepathy but she can't control it. She hears voices. Feels feelings. All the time.

"I helped her when she first got here and she took to me, because she missed her brother. When Dean left, River decided we should share a room because we were both missing a brother. So now we do."

"Then she does sound nice." Mary said after a moment. "Strange or not, it sounds like she has a good heart." Mary knew that the truth could heart - that much was clear even here with Sam, but it didn't make someone terrible.

"I'm glad you had someone when your brother left."

Sam didn't want to think about when Dean left, but he nodded. "I had Rebekah then, too. She's gone now."

The less said about Rebekah the better. Since questions would be awkward.

"River's special." He glanced up at his mother, trying to meet her gaze. "She needs people to look after her who won't treat her like a child even though she can be one sometimes."

She gave a nod, understanding what he was saying. "I'd like to meet her at some point, if she'd be willing."

"I'm sure she'd like that." Especially if she thought it mattered to Sam. Same way Mom was doing now. Which Sam recognized. "Thanks, Mom."

Every time Sam said mom, there was a little twinge in her heart that seemed to add another stitch to mend the way she felt about her failings as a mother to him. "I'm glad you've found a place here. A lot of people speak highly of you."

Sam ducked his head. "We all take care of each other, that's all."

It was really awkward, this combination of compliments and getting to know each other. One would be a lot easier without the other.

"Any thoughts on how we can make this less weird?" he spit out. "Because I know having a son almost your own age is weird, even for hunters."

Mary couldn't help but let out a soft laugh that was followed with a smile. "That's a good question." She paused, thinking about the words she wanted to say. "For me... there's just so many questions. Mom questions. First word. First step. First birthday. First broken bone. First love...."

"First love was Jessica," Sam said quietly, since he'd already said as much. "First word was 'Dean'. First step, I don't know. It wasn't the sort of thing we kept track of. First birthday, I don't remember." He gave her a crooked sort of smile. "First broken bone or first broken bone I told anyone about?"

Mary took a few moments to process all that information. When her mind caught up to reality, her head tilted just a little. "You broke a bone and didn't tell anyone? How old were you?"

"I'm pretty sure I broke my nose in a fight when I was six, and I definitely broke my ribs in a fight when I was nine. There was no point telling Dean, because he'd have worried, and Dad wasn't there for me to tell." Sam shrugged again and glanced up to see Kitty arriving with their food.

"Not much anyone could do about either, and I kept breaking things because I kept fighting bullies. Besides, Dad probably would've said the pain would toughen me up."

Mary's lips pressed into what would have been a frown, but she was trying hard not do it too deeply because what was done was done, but she didn't like any of the things she heard, especially that John would have said such a thing. The only thing remotely uplifting was that Sam was fighting bullies. She wanted to apologize again - if she hadn't died, she would like to think Sam's life would have been different.

She was quiet for a moment or two before she asked what she felt she had to ask. She needed to know. "Do you have any happy memories?"

"Lots from Stanford," he answered quickly. Probably too quickly. But those came easiest to mind.

He frowned then, an echo of her expression, before he said, "It wasn't all bad. If that's what you're worried about. I used to follow Dean everywhere, like a little duck, and he was good about it. We had a lot of fun, and I didn't hate hunting with him and Dad. I just wanted something else for my life. Dad and I didn't really start fighting until I got older and challenged him whenever I disagreed with him."

Slight relief rested on her face, though the ever-present subtle tense of guilt remained. She carried it with her most of the time, often in her shoulders. "I guess it's hard for me to picture John hunting and being so... impatient. He was really good with you boys when you were born."

"He never got over you," Sam told her, not accusative. If anything, he was trying to reassure her. That was weird, since he was sure Dad hadn't been celibate. Not that he'd ever let him see anything. Dean might have.

"I was the same after Jess... it was like I couldn't think of anything else. An itch between my shoulder blades, fire in my gut. I didn't have time for anything or anyone until we killed Azazel."

It was sort of sad that he finally understood Dad and then he went and died.

Mary felt conflicted. It was nice to know the love she felt for John was returned even in death. At the same time, she was sad that her death had changed the man she loved so much. She wondered just how much he had endured because of her. A part of her had to wonder if she should have ever brought him into her life.

"Your grandfather would get like that sometimes. Very focused on one thing. Driven. Until he defeated it."

Sam frowned tightly. Henry had told him that by the time he met Sam and Dean, they'd known their mother's family, but he hadn't met them yet.

He nodded and then asked, "Did you know about Dad's dad? That he was a Man of Letters?"

Mary shook her head a bit confused. "No. Henry wasn't around when I met your father. What's a Man of Letters?"

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