"His death?" asked Sam, concern colouring his features.
"Well, not directly. I suppose. I don't really know the details, that's just what he said." Marianne said, fingering the tatty comforter on the bed. "He didn't know that John had passed." Marianne looked at Sam and then to Dean. "I am sorry. He was a good man."
"The best." Dean said gruffly. Sam nodded.
"I.. I never met him. But my father spoke highly of him. He was there after your mother died." Marianne found it hard to talk to them about this. It wasn't her story. She had no right, but she needed them to see where she and her father fit into their story so they might help her.
"What?" Dean's voice was low, dangerous. Marianne realised that he was beginning to think she was lying.
She took a deep breath.
"My father's family was friendly with your mother's family. I think it started with their grandparents, but I'm not sure. After Mary died, my father stayed with John for a couple of weeks. I understand that Mary had told him nothing?"
No reaction.
Marianne continued. "My dad went with him. Tried to talk to him. But John was distraught. My dad said something changed that night for John. He wasn't the same person anymore. My dad used to tell me stories when I was kid of his friends in America, and how he and Mary would hunt when they were younger, and kill the monsters that lived under my bed." Marianne smiled softly.
No reaction, but Marianne was aware that Dean had shifted his gun to train on her once more.
Marianne held up a finger, and reached into her bag. She withdrew a book similar to what John had left his sons, and a tall thin black book. She flipped it open. It was full of photographs.
"Look, I'm not trying to upset you lads or anything. I swear I'm not. I just want you to see I'm on the level."
She pointed at one photograph of a young, blond man with a beard, giving a piggy back to a smiling, laughing Mary Winchester. The next photograph was a picture of John with the same man, talking with beers in hand, leaning over a familiar black hood. Dean inhaled quickly. That was the Impala.. Sam took the album and leaned over to Dean, allowing him to see better. The boys had never seen these photographs, or anything like them. Beyond one or two pictures that they each had, John had destroyed all photographs when they were both children.
Sam flicked onto the next page. Mary was now hugging John at the beach, her hair streaming across her face. The next photograph was of a group of people that seemed slightly familiar but neither Sam nor Dean could recognise them. The next was of a smiling Mary Winchester in a wedding dress, coming down a staircase. Dean swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that was forming in his throat. A couple more of casual photos, peppered with the blonde man. Then, a pregnant Mary with a glass of milk balanced on her stomach. Then a baby, crinkled and red.
"Sam, that's enough." said Dean, coughing and looking away. Sam did not stop. He flipped forward until he found himself. Tiny and crying, being held aloft by his doting mother. He snapped the album shut.
"That's for you, if you want it." said Marianne. "My dad wanted you to have it. He wasn't sure if you had any photographs."
"Thanks, that's really… " Sam took a deep breath. "Thanks."
"The blonde guy is your dad?" asked Dean, shifting uncomfortably.
"Yeah, thats him. James." said Marianne, smiling slightly.
"Mother?" asked Dean, meeting Marianne's eyes.
"My dad left my mother when I was 4 years old. Apparently, he came home to find her trying to exorcise me."
"That's harsh." said Dean, "Why?"
Marianne sighed. "I don't know. My mother, Hannah, was slightly unstable, but my father loved her so much. He always forgave her whenever she did something crazy. That time was different though. He said that he came home from hunting earlier than expected and he found me tied to a chair. Little four year old me. Soaking wet from the holy water and shivering. Covered in my own blood too, if his account is anything to go by. Apparently she also did this." Marianne shrugged her jacket off, and pulled up her sleeves. Engraved onto her forearms were hundreds of small symbols, some of which were familiar to Sam.
"Are they all Enochian?" asked Sam, leaning in to get a better look. Marianne rotated her arms so that Sam could see. "I think so, but my dad and I have searched for years. They don't mean anything. Just marks of a mad woman." She dropped her sleeves. "Couple this with his friend dying, he just wanted a new start. So he took me, and bolted half way across the world, to some no name village in the middle of nowhere, in Ireland."
Marianne continued, "I'm not sure he ever meant to teach me to hunt, but it just sort of happened. I loved it. Took to it like a duck takes to water. It was just me and my dad against the forces of evil. I worried about him though. He would never take me with him, always left me in crappy hotel rooms with no one but the tv for company. He would drill me, over and over, and over, about how to kill, track and investigate weird happenings. When I was older, he took me abroad with him to hunt. The moors of Scotland, the forests of Romania and the mountains of Minnesota, I've hunted in them all."
"Minnesota?" snorted Dean, "Yeah, we've hunted there. Hunted all over the U S of A. Not sure how this fits in with you looking for our help, sweetheart."
"I'm getting to that." Marianne scowled at him. "When I was 17 I thought that I wanted something else, something other than hunting. Me and my dad were camping on the beach near some no name town in Kerry, and I told him that I wanted to get a proper job. He didn't want me to leave, but I was 17, I knew everything. So I packed my stuff the next morning, and left for Dublin. Got myself a job in a call centre, of all things! Can you imagine?!"
Sam nodded, as if he knew exactly how she felt.
"It was there that I met Ashling Long. I didn't know it when I first met her, but she was going to be everything I ever wanted." Marianne smiled openly. "I never thought I would love a woman. Didn't even enter my head. But I loved her. Was like a bolt of lightning when I realised. Everyone around me apparently could see that we were made for each other, except us. It was the night she had gotten mugged, and she called me, desperate and scared. I flew from my apartment and ran to find her. When I did find her, she was covered in blood and dirt, her light coloured coat soaking up multitudes of blood. I thought she was going to die, and in that second, I knew I couldn't lose her. Turns out she wasn't half as badly injured as I thought she was, but my feelings were there then, and I didn't want to take them back."
Sam glanced at his brother, who was listening, raptly, to what Marianne was saying.
"Once it became clear, and it became clear very quickly, that things were going to go in a romantic way, I wanted Ash to know everything. All the hunting, all the fucked up shit that we get to do on a daily basis to protect people who never even knew they were in danger. She just sat and listened to me, twirling a strand of that hair of hers with her fingers. You know what she said when I was done? This goddamn woman who was much too good for me. You know what she said?" Marianne paused.
"She said, that it was ok, and would I like tea. Just like that. I almost asked her to marry me right then."
Marianne didn't seem aware that the boys were not responding to her, just sitting listening to her story.
"I slowly started to teach her a couple of things to protect herself, y'know, the usual. Salt, holy water, iron, the basics. I never wanted her to be involved. I practically stopped hunting then, only going when I was asked by friends or my father. We slipped into a quiet domestic life. We lived in an apartment. I had a bed, a place to hang my clothes. There was a coffee machine that never worked and sunny yellow curtains in the kitchen. Ash would drag me to some garden centre or some department store on Sundays and debate the pros of getting a blue pottery jug versus a steel one. That was my life. And I loved it. I had her. That was all I wanted."
"This… this part is hard. Forgive me." Marianne stumbled over her words now. "Ash always wanted a family. Soon after we got married, she asked if we could have a baby. A friend of ours kindly assisted in providing the necessary ingredients, and soon Ash was pregnant." Marianne reached into her bag again, and pulled out a wallet. She took 2 pictures out of it, showing them again to the boys. One was of Marianne, and what the Winchesters assumed to be Ash, smiling and laughing. Marianne had her hand on Ash's pregnant belly. The dark haired woman was very beautiful. She reminded Sam briefly of Ruby, her hair the same dark colour. The next photo was of the same woman and little blonde haired boy, about 2 years old.
"That's my son. Diarmaid. Named after Ash's father." Marianne gestured for the pictures. Dean handed them back to her. Marianne gently touched the photo of her son.
"I only left that night because I was asked. I got a call from a friend of my father's, Tony, who was hunting a Black Dog near me, and needed a guide. I promised Ash I would only be gone a little while. I put my son to bed, and kissed my wife. She made me promise I'd come back in one piece. I told her I would, always would come back to her. I tracked that goddamn omen all night with Tony, but never found him. Goddamn death omens."
Marianne swallowed thickly. "I knew there was something wrong before I even opened the door. Yknow that hot feeling, that kick in your stomach, that innate feeling of wrongness? I had that the minute I got to my front door. It wasn't even locked. I opened it, and there, in a puddle in the hallway was my wife. My heart dropped a 1000 feet as I ran to her. I knew she was dead before I touched her. Her arms were all bent out of shape, there was claw marks on her back, and her head was just a little too far to the left. Her eyes were wide open, and her face had a look of pure horror on it. I slipped on her blood as I stood, screaming for my son. I stumbled over broken drawers and doors. The place was a wreck, and I found my son hiding in a wardrobe."
Marianne's voice cracked. "He wasn't breathing. Just hidden amongst old coats and boxes. He had tried to hide from whatever killed him. I pulled him out, and I don't know. I can't remember what happened. I just remember trying to wake him up, and Ash's blood smearing his hair. He was two years old."
Sam made a move to touch Marianne, but Dean stopped him. The death of kids always played a little on Dean's mind.
"I must have called my father, because he arrived soon after that. He took me out and called the police. I honestly don't remember anything properly for the following 6 months. I drank and slept and cried. It was after that my father told me that it wasn't a random act of cruelness. Something had taken my wife and my son away from me. That's when I began to hunt again. I killed evil sons of bitches at an alarming rate. My father followed the demon's trail to America as I was caught up in a job in London. He found its name, what it was calling itself. He told me, and I came to join him."
Marianne took a sip of something from a hip flask. "So, I followed the trail with Dad, sleeping in the most uncomfortable car in the world. Goddamn bitch got the drop on us, and that's when Dad got hurt, when he gave me that message."
She fixed her eyes on both Sam and Dean. "That's why I'm looking for you and why I need you to help me. Dad said you have met this bitch and may know where to find her."
"The name?" asked Sam.
"Meg." said Marianne.
