Well, I've alwasy been fasinated by the untold tales in stories, such as Jess, and Standford. I alwasy wanted to do a story about Mary. I'm in the middle of a long Epic in another fandom, so I didn't want to get distracted from that, but this story was begging to be told. So I told it. Eventually, I'll do a long version, or even a different not so dark version, but for Now... The title is taken from Mary, Queen of Scott.
Mary...Queen of Naught
The cold air rushed through her window, chilling Mary so that she huddled under her blanket, the warm covers pulled up to her ears. Despite the warmth, the seven-year-old shivered, letting out a harsh and shaky breath.
For as long as she could remember, Mary feared the dark. At times she would catch shadows out of the corner of her eye. Sometimes it was the feeling of someone watching her that had her running to her mom's bed, desperate for soft words of comfort. Diane would pull her into her arms and kiss her softly, praying over her before sending her back to bed.
"Angels are watching over you," Her mom would say, smiling and tucking her fair-headed daughter under the covers. But that was before. Before the small, wailing package that had finally arrived after nine long months of waiting. Before the baby girl that Mary called sister and swore to never let any harm befall.
Before she decided that she would face her fear of the dark so as never to let little Abigail-May worry about what could be out there, possibly waiting in the shadows.
But tonight was different – the darkness was closer, more sinister.
Mary shoved back the covers, pulled her large pale feet out of the bedding and hurried to her sister's room. She didn't want Abby to worry – Worrying was Mary's job.
She was almost half way to the nursery when her mom's scream tore through the air, shattering any last dreams of safety.
After that night she would always associate fire with her mom, pinned and burning on the ceiling, eyes fastened on Mary pleading her to take her sister and run, run and don't look back.
So Mary does what she's been doing for the last six months – she protects her sister, this time by grabbing Abby and running, leaving her mom pinned behind her.
After that night, she would always associate yellow with the eyes of the man standing in the corner of the room, laughing cruelly.
Mary won't talk about what happened in the room, but the charred remains make the police think Diane was murdered. They believe that Mary saw it all.
When she's twelve, her dad remarries. Abby-May's five years and six months old, laughing and joking and playing like a normal child. She sticks to her older sister like glue, always looking at Mary first to make sure that everything's okay before tottering across the playground. For two of those three years Mary's been cooking, cleaning and taking care of Abby while her dad lost himself in work and the bottle.
A year ago Dylan suddenly woke up and realized that his eleven year old daughter was cooking three meals a day, cleaning house, doing laundry and getting small jobs while watching out for a little four year old.
He looked at his own life and didn't like what he saw.
He fell in love in less than six months, and was married again in four.
Yvette tries: Mary gives her that. But the woman wasn't ready to take on a household of two children, one who's perpetually in trouble, the other who's still scarred over her mother's death. Yvette's only twenty seven, married for the first time, and still clinging to the romantic ideal of a first year of marriage.
She drags Dylan down with her and soon they're more busy kissing and eating out to worry about Abby being picked on by seven year old Eric Parkins, or how Mary still feels the shadows closing in around her.
Mary's never forgotten that the dark hides its own secrets. She gets real good with a throwing knife, and reads all the cheep horror stories she can get her hands on. She looks up the supernatural, researches people called hunters, and one day, when Abby comes crying to her about something under her bed, she kills her first monster.
It's the ugliest thing she's ever seen, Parkins included. Its black with green patches, slimy and gross and it bleeds blue. Mary looks at its long teeth and swears never to let Abby out of her sight again. Abby, clinging to her, small brown curls clinging to her tear streaked face, agrees.
Mary's tall, finally growing into her big feet. She's tanned from days out in the sun, strong from exercise, sharp and deadly with a knife after years of paranoia and training. She's considered to be a freak by the girls, and rumors fly about about her being a witch or some such thing. Mary doesn't pay them any mind and hangs out more with the boys, who consider her to be one of the coolest chicks around.
She's not one they'd date though. Mary's too tough and hard for them, and who knows what their mothers would think.
Yvette has given up trying reach her. They just can't seem to bond over nail polish and hair things. Instead, the raven haired woman joins in with the chattering gossipers, talking about how someone should have raised the girl right. Because she's been different since she was nine years old, they figure it was the first wife's fault. After all, that age is one of the most impressionable ones in a child's life.
Mary hears them talking and has to walk away - seething - so as not to launch herself at her step-mom and throttle her. She could do it too – she's taken down two werewolves and four ghosts. She tried her hand at vampire hunting but decided it was too risky for Abby – if they caught her scent they would be sure to follow her home. Mostly she does research and puts it in a special, anonymous newsletter she spends hours making. When Mary is fourteen (Abby's seven) they meet their first real hunter.
He's short, a bit stocky, and mean as a pit bull. Determined as one too. He's heard about a witch in Kentucky that needs taking care of, so he rides on down to do the dirty work himself. Imagine his surprise when he met Mary Collins instead. Jaded, sad, but nowhere near evil.
He takes a liking to her, and quickly teaches her the finer things about hunting. He gives her contact numbers, such as Bobby Singer – an up and coming hunter whose quickly becoming the foremost expert on demons – or Bill Harvelle, who's opening a bar with his young, nineteen-year-old wife, Ellen. They're only kids themselves, he tells her. But they'd help her out in a heartbeat.
Yvette is a pacifist, so Mary learns to shoot behind her dad's back. She already knew the basics, courtesy of her mom. Abby accompanies her to the 'shooting range' and in between shots they talk about school, friends, dolls, and things that sisters do. The sisters are close – closer than most people get in a lifetime.
When Mary's almost fifteen, but not quite, she learns that not all that's supernatural is evil. After that she goes to church at least once a week, and she tells her sister, "God's sent his angels to watch out for us."
That doesn't mean she stops sleeping with a silver edged knife under her pillow though.
Abby is the perfect child. Sweet, kind, with soft brown ringlets that frame her face, a gentile, happy smile and laughing brown eyes, she's everything Dylan and Yvette want in a child, especially when they discover Yvette can't have one of her own.
They shower her with gifts, tucking her into bed every night with kisses. They pretty much spoil her, and while they aren't neglecting the oldest, there isn't as much warmth in their eyes when they look at Mary.
But Abby's more perceptive than they know. She gives away most of their gifts, gets out of bed to cuddle with her much taller older sister, and idolizes Mary to death; she more than makes up for their parent's coldness.
When Abby's nine she comes home with a bloody nose, tears down her face, and tears in clothes. Yvette loses her head, screaming at Mary for not watching out for her. Mary doesn't need to be told – she's feeling plenty guilty as it is.
Abby never tells her what happened, but later the golden haired sister hears about how Parkins has a broken nose, black eye and a twisted wrist. He never says who did it, but the way he shys away from Abby lets Mary know.
She's never been prouder.
After that, she teaches Abby a little self defense. She won't let Abby hunt – she refuses to even consider it – but she figures it can't hurt for Abigail-May to know how to inflict some serious damage if anyone ever gets 'fresh' with her.
That her sister's nine years old and won't be getting 'fresh' with anyone for another seven years never enters her mind.
When Mary's seventeen - Abby's eleven - she gets hurt bad. It was supposed to be a simple poltergeist, but it turns out to be a four, maybe even a five man job. She ends up with a concussion, a shattered arm, and a broken ankle. Three ribs broken, two are cracked and the rest are bruised. She has a piece of railing stuck in her shoulder.
It hurts worse than anything in the entire world. Mary can't move without seeing white sparks across her vision, and the only thing that keeps her crawling toward the road is, "Abby… wait for me Abby. I'll be alright."
Squealing tires shock her back to consciousness, and then she's being lifted into a car, tense voices and a dialing phone breaking through her closed and blackened world.
"…We found a girl by the side of the road. She looks bad off…. She's impaled on a stick! No I will not calm down! Is she breathing? Oh God... honey, is she…"
She wakes up in a hospital room. There's a wire up her nose, her arm's in cast, and her foot's up in the air. Abby's laying practically on top of her, asleep. Her small, delicate hand tangled up in Mary's blond hair – chopped short for practicality.
Mary just looks at her, knowing very well that she might have never seen her again, and then who would have protected Abby? She starts crying, for the first time in ten years. Her sobs wake Abigail up, who promptly starts wailing away too. It's a miracle the nurses don't barge in and throw Abby out (her not being of age and all.)
"Mary, don't hunt again." Abby whispers, speaking through a stuffy nose after they've settled down. The eleven year old has her head tucked in the hallow of Mary's neck, positioned just so, so as not to aggravate her sister's injuries further.
"Then who's gonna take care of you?"
Abby sits up and rolls her eyes. "Common, Mary. I'm eleven. I can take care of myself." Mary flinches inwardly, having always dreaded the day those words would came into being. Then Abigail-May smiles. "Besides, I didn't say 'don't take care of me,' I said stop hunting. Let someone else do it." Abby sniffles. "I don't want to lose you."
Mary hugs Abigail to herself, bites back tears from the pain in her arm and from a sharper pain in her heart, and says, "Okay."
Mary keeps her word, having never lied or broken a promise. She still keeps a loaded gun under her bed, silver bullets on her mantle, and strong salt line hidden under the tiles of all the doorways. She tapes salt onto the windows in the middle of the night, and checks them every week.
She mainly researches things now, and returns to her newsletter with newfound diligence. Her hair grows out, her mouth becomes softer as she stops facing the stuff of nightmares day in and day out. Soon, boys aren't just coming around for shooting competitions or to talk about guy things such as cars. Now they come around with flowers and to whisper nice things in her ear.
She takes one look at their soft hands, weak mouths and weaker eyes and wonders if they would be able to protect her or her kids if some fugly came looking for her some day.
She turns them all away at the door.
When Mary's eighteen she goes to college. She could have gotten into some very good collages, but they're all in Boston or New York, so she chooses Cherry Wood. It's only an hour away, and she makes that drive every day she so as to keep an eye on her little sister. Abby rolls her eyes, kisses her on the cheek and reminds her she's twelve now, as if that's some big number.
The truth is, Abby feels safer with her sister there, more loved, but doesn't want Mary giving up anything else for her. She tells Mary as much one day, during one of their increasingly common screaming matches.
Mary breaks down and cries, and tells Abby in no uncertain terms that if she ever thinks herself as a burden, Mary's going to take her over her knee and pound some sense into her.
When Abby's fifteen – Mary's twenty-one – she gets her first boyfriend. Amazingly, it's the same Perkins who picked on her since she was three, threw her dolls in the pool when she was seven, and whose nose she broke in she was nine.
He's grown up now, worships the ground Abigail walks on, looks warily at her older sister, and threatens anyone who comes within ten feet of the family with questionable intentions. He gets Mary's vote right off the bat when he tells her exactly why Abby gave him that broken nose, black eye and sprained wrist all those years ago and apologizes. He says he doesn't think that way about Mary and her mom anymore, and he's ashamed he ever listened to the old women gossiping.
Mary turns twenty two – Abby's sixteen and madly in love with Eric – when she sees a man with yellow eyes watching her with a cruel smile.
She panics, grabs her confused sister and runs, just like her mom told her to all those years ago.
Abby is confused for the first ten miles, angry for the next twenty. When she screams at Mary to stop the car because she's "sick and tired of your paranoia and is this just because I'm finally happy with a guy I love?" Mary finally tells her everything.
How she found their mom pinned to the ceiling, how she can feel the dark closing in around them, how she saw the yellow eyed man. Abigail's always known that their mom was killed – murdered – but she didn't know how.
Now she sits quietly in the car seat, before breaking into tears and asking, "Was it my fault? Did he kill her because of me?"
Mary says no, even though she knows that's not true. It's the first time she's lied to her sister. Abby can senses the lie and is quiet for the rest of the ride.
They pull into a hotel on the side of the road. It's the cheapest one they can find, one that won't ask questions or make a big deal over anything. They lay thick lines of salt over every possible entry, even scattering it around the beds.
Mary waits until she's sure Abby's asleep before writing the goodbye note and quietly leaving, making sure not to mess with the salt line.
She walks for miles, not daring to take the car in case she doesn't come back and she doesn't want her sixteen year old sister to be trapped. She walks until a clearing in the middle of nowhere, makes her preparations, and then stands upright in the middle and says, "Come out you son of a gun, I know you're there."
The man materializes like a shadow, his cold laughter ringing off the trees. Mary's fought and killed too many things to be intimidated by him anymore, so she just pulls out her pistol and shoots. She's filled the gun with everything she could think off. The silver bullet comes first. Next comes the consecrated iron. That one stings – she can see it from here. It also pushes him back three steps and strait into the Devil's Trap she'd painted on the ground with black (just in case). He's not strong enough to escape, and she quickly sends him back to where he belongs, promising that if he ever tries to hurt her or her family again, especially her sister, she'll call on some of the good guys to deal with him permanently.
Just before he leaves, he tells her, "You should have called them. Now I'll never stop hunting you – your blood is mine!"
She worries for three sleepless nights, then figures it'll be a hundred years before the demon can even think of escaping. Later she wonders why she didn't just let the Angels deal with the Yellow-Eyed Monster - just to be sure - but shrugs it off.
Abby's eighteen, in her first year of college and has sworn of dating forever, even if Mary knows that the only reason Eric broke up with her is because he thinks she can do better than a poor lumberjack. Wood's all Eric knows, and it's also his passion. Abigail loves wood because he does and doesn't care if they end up as beggars on the street, but they're both too stubborn and she's too hurt to get back together.
Mary's twenty-four when she meets John Winchester. He's five years older than her, has served eleven years in the marines. He's visiting his grandparents, who she takes cookies and cake too in exchange for stories and words of wisdom. The Winchesters are all she ever wanted in a family, so at first she doesn't even recognize the crush, thinking it's just her dreams playing tricks on her.
She first meets him when she's taking a bowl of jello to Granny Winchesters. She's trying to balance a plate, her school books, and a bike, so she's carefully scouting out for any cracks or pebles that might be trying to trip her up. She's convinced there's some fae or creature that puts such things right in her path so she hits every single one. She's so busy concentrating on the road she runs right into him. The bowl flies into the air, she falls on her bum, and the books land on top of her. The jello performs a lovely arch before landing flat on his head.
It's a disasterous first impression, especially when the first thought that comes into her mind when she sees him all cleaned up is - Wow he's got a sweet smile.
When she sees the crush for what it is, she panics. She runs every chance she gets, but she can't escape from his sweet smile, broken brown eyes, and quiet strength. He's an army man, he's a warrior, and she knows he would do whatever he had to do to protect her.
He's so perfect that he can't be real, because nothing this good has ever stayed in Mary's life. But John pursues her as any man worth his salt does a lover. He woos her with flowers, but talks guns and cars with her too. He loves her Impala – the one thing she ever asked her dad for – and fixes the car up so nice it practically growls in glee.
John opens doors for her, smiles at her breathlessly when she's speaking, laughs at at her not-so-funny jokes as if she's Andy-freaking-Griffin or something. Mary learns to cook especially for him, tries to make an cherry pie because he said it was his favorite, and cry's great big tears when she fails miserably. John comes in, takes one look at the smoking mess and starts laughing uproariously. She decks him for it, then starts giggling when the hilarity of the situation overcomes her. They run away before Yvette discovers the burn out oven.
John and Mary fight like cats and dogs. John has a 'don't-ask-won't-tell' attitude, while Mary is naturally curious. She refuses to be marched off like one of his military buddies. He's a neat freak, she can't keep her room organized for more than a day. She can't cook, neither can he. Mary drives like a maniac, driving John to clutch the door handle and yell, "Watch out Mary! He's comming along the left side."
Mary accuses him of being an old granny and pushes the pedal to the floor just 'cause she can.
They learn to love each other's idiosyncrasies, and cherish the differences.
One day he takes her out to watch the stars and for the first time that Mary can remember, she doesn't fear the dark.
Mary never tells him about the supernatural though. She can already tell what kind of man John is – he wouldn't ignore it. He'd pack up his guns, hit the road and try to save every person he could. He'd wage war against the darkness and lose himself in it. She loves him for it, and loves him enough to shoulder that burden so he never has to.
She teaches him how to laugh again, using her witty sense of humor, sarcastic tone, and playful banter to show him that he's not broken. She lets herself be the Mary she was supposed to be until that terrible day when she was forced to stop being a child and start being the protector.
Abigail positively loves him, and later takes him aside and cutting no words tells how their mom was murdered when Mary was seven, Mary saw it, and the guy's accomplices are still out there. She tells him how Mary raised her, how Yvette never understood her, how her dad didn't really show his love for her. Abby tells him that she's never seen her sister so happy except when John's with her.
John loves Mary all the more because he now sees the reason behind the strength. He also has something to protect – something to guard.
He's been missing that 'something' since coming back from the war.
John knows Mary realizes he's codling her, but when she lets him get away with it for only a little while before protecting him back, he loves her all the more. Suddenly she's not just someone to guard. She's a partner.
Mary says quietly she never wants her children to experience the childhood she did – she wants them to grow up children.
John agrees.
One night, when they're sitting out in his Chevy truck, in the woods somewhere – not doing anything, just talking – he kisses her gently – softly – and asks her to marry him. Mary's so happy she can't even say yes. So she kisses him wildly and passionately like the wild child she is, until they're red in the face and gasping for breath.
The wedding is simple, but Abigail thinks that there was never a more perfect one anywhere. But, her opinion is biased because it's her sisters wedding, she's the maid of honor, and Eric just proposed to her – again.
When Mary's twenty five, the pregnancy test comes back positive. The blond sits down on the toilet seat, stares at the blue line, and thinks how? John's playing with their church baseball team, so she's all alone, in Kansas, her sister a state away, and where the pick'nsamhill is John?
Oh, right.
Baseball. Because that's so important right now.
She's practically hyperventilating when she finally gets her sister on the phone.
"Mary, what's wrong?" Abby gasps over the phone, worried because Eric said that Mary was panicking and Mary never panicks.
"I'm pregnant."
"… " The silence went on for what seemed forever, before Abby let out a, "What!" that had her neighbors knocking on the door to make sure she was okay.
John's reaction was a classic. He fainted – ahem… Passed out.
The next years fly by and slowly the supernatural begins fading into the back of Mary's mind. She leaves the salt lines, and she always has her guns well oiled, but she stoppes her newsletter as diapers, early wake up calls, late nights, and taking care of a young toddler take their toll. One day, she sweeps away the salt and doesn't put it back.
John is as perfect a father as he is a husband. He has a firm, but kind hand. When Mary finds out she's pregnant with Sam, it was planned. John sat beside her anxiously as they waited for the test results. Abby and her husband Eric – who were visiting them, hovered in the hallway. When John's triumphant "Yes!" rocked the room, Abby was right there to hug her.
Dean's the perfect brother. He was everything Mary hoped and dreamed. She had the perfect house, perfect husband, perfect son, perfect life.
The only thing that staines it is the little voice that whisperes it can't last.
Mary is twenty-nine when she rushes into her son's room, clad in a white dress to see the man with yellow eyes leaning over her son. "It's you." She hisses. How, why, and didn't I? Echo in her mind, but that's not important because that's her son he's leaning over.
Mary rushes forward, determined to protect her son if it was the last thing she did. The next thing she knows she's sliding up the wall, struggling and kicking so as not to die like her mother. As he slits her abdomen and pinned her to the ceiling she cried out, pleading protection for her family.
Yellow eyes hisses, and leaving a blaze inside her, vanishes for another twenty-two years. John charges into the room only seconds after he leaves, calling out for her. Mary watches him from where she's pinned, taking in the last glimps. Run, John. Take the boys and run.
When he looked up, his face horrified and broken, she felt her heart rend in two. I'm so sorry my love…
When she burst into flame, she makes sure he was well out of the house before she allowes the house to collapse.
Years later, Mary is still twenty nine, Abby was killed at twenty four in a 'strange car accident,' and Sam is twenty two, she stands before him and said… I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, sorry I was over confident, sorry I didn't seal that monster for five thousand years. I'm sorry you had to live like this.
Then she turnes around and does what she has always done – she protects, even at the expense of her life.
And that, was the end of Mary, Queen of Naught.
Originally this was going to be more tragic, with Mary trading her second born for her sister's freedom. However, when I wrote that down I felt sick and sad, so this is the second version.
Well, good? Bad? Just plain terrible?
You know what to do!
Review!
P.S. I live for constructive critisism, and any suggestions that are made are alwasy considered, and often implimented. Thanks!