A/N: YOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo...I apologize if this seems confusing...I've been working on it in very small increments for the course of about two months, and as a result, it seems kinda choppy to me. But I really needed to get it out there, so...this is what ya get. And now, the weather.
Mary wasn't stupid, not by a long shot. Nor was she blind. She'd been raised by hunters, for Chrissake, she knew how to use her senses!
So, following that, she'd known for quite some time that there was something wrong with Dean and Chase. Well, not wrong per say, but just off. Chase looked at everything like it was, for lack of a better word, quaint, like he wasn't used to any of it. Like he was extremely displaced.
And Dean just kept staring at her. It was…weird. Mary really didn't know what to make of it, so she largely ignored Dean.
And then there was the way the two interacted… at times Chase deferred to Dean, like when the two of them were dealing with Mary, but when they were talking about the monster, Chase spoke more often than not.
They had a weird partnership, to say the least.
Mary's curiosity was part of the reason she wanted so badly to join them on their hunt at Whitshire farms. She wanted to see more of those two, wanted to understand what was so strange about her that Dean kept staring, wanted to know why Chase was so peculiar. Why Dean could barely say "empousa" with a straight face.
Why her parents hadn't caught on to anything, and remained oddly oblivious for hunters with that caliber of experience.
Why, why, why….the questions were piling up, over and over, and Mary just couldn't let that go. So when the car outside the door started up, Mary slipped past her parents and watched the direction it drove off in, and then mentally followed them to the nearest motel using her mental map of the town she lived.
Hunters were so predictable, honestly. Mary would have bet her bottom dollar that that's where they'd be.
"Mom?" Mary asked, heading back to the living room where her parents were.
"Mary? What is it?" Deanna asked, looking up from her book.
"Do you think they're really hunting an empousa?" Mary asked, cautiously. "I've never heard of it."
Deanna looked over at her husband, and then back to Mary. "I'm not sure." She said, slowly. "It's really too late to call and bother anybody else, but tomorrow I was going to call one of our contacts and see if they'd heard of it before."
"But it's not sketchy?" Mary pressed. "The accident at the farm, and then all of a sudden they just show up here of all places, saying something's after me?"
"Things like that happen to civilians all the time." Deanna said. "Would we really be so much different? They didn't know we were hunters."
Mary thought back to Dean's reaction on hearing her parent's names. They might have not known they were hunters, but the two of them –or Dean, at least— certainly knew something.
"Did they tell you how to kill it?" She pressed.
"Bronze." Deanna said. "Nothing special, just bronze. Strange though, usually it's silver."
"Strange…" Mary echoed.
Deanna eyed her. "You're not planning to interfere with their hunt, are you?" She asked.
"No, not at all." Mary promised, already thinking of ways she could get past her parents. She could always lie and say she was going out with John…
.:~*~:.
Beth Whitshire was much more composed than one might expect from someone who had lost her husband.
"You came to talk about what happened to Tom, didn't you?" She asked, almost confrontational.
Percy wondered what exactly had gone down, because she didn't seem to be particularly grieving. If anything, she reminded him a lot after his own mother, Sally, after Smelly Gabe had been turned into artwork...
He started keeping an eye out for small tics that Beth might have, just in case.
"Can you tell us more about him?" Dean asked.
"Well, he was a real sweetheart when I first met him...But he was a bit of an alcoholic, and I could never get him to stop... You know how it goes. I never wanted anything like this to happen to him!" She tacked on hastily, as if Percy and Dean would suddenly try to implicate her in his death.
"He...was abusive?" Percy asked.
Beth nodded. "It was awful. Thank heavens Charlie had the good sense to hide up in his room...I don't know what I would have done if my precious boy had ever been hurt."
Dean looked disgusted, and Percy could only imagine his face right now. It was awful, the way she'd been treated, and Percy was secretly glad for his death.
"Anyways, what happened?" Percy asked.
"I don't know for sure." Beth said. "The official story was a machinery malfunction, but that just seems like a load of gibberish to me. He's always been good with his tools, at the very least."
Percy really didn't like the implications that sentence carried, and he was starting to feel a little bit disappointed that Tom was already dead because a simple (however gruesome) death was rather unfair, in Tom's favor.
"Does Charlie know anything?" Dean asked.
Beth chewed her lip. "I don't know." She said. "I tried to keep him far away from it. There was only so much I could do, after all, but oh, did I try."
"Charlie?" Percy asked. "Can we speak to him? Do you know where he is?"
Beth nodded. "He's out back. Just... try to be sensitive, okay?"
Dean had already turned around and started marching in that direction, but Percy hung back to speak to Beth more. He of all people could sympathize with her situation, and he wanted to make sure she was okay.
"How bad was it?" He said quietly.
Beth sat down on one of the nearby sofas, not relaxing but looking at least a little bit more comfortable.
"You know how it is." She said. "I can tell. There really isn't a need for you to ask."
"You were hurt. I just want to help."
Without moving, she gave him such a cynical look that he almost felt embarrassed, and he had to remind himself that technically he was an intruder in the situation, that he had really no right to be butting in. He just couldn't help himself, though, she reminded him so much of his mom, the situation so paralleled it was eerie.
"If you'd wanted to help, you'd'a been here when this first started. But nobody cared, then! So why do you care at all now?" She sighed, rubbing her face. "Just forget it. At least it's over now."
Percy remained standing for one really awkward moment, before sitting himself down across from her.
"The same thing happened to my mother." He said. "She married the wrong person, only she did it for me." He shook his head. "She's happy now, though, and things are so much better for her. You deserve the same thing."
Beth smiled, but it was small, tired. "You're nice." She said. "I hope that you find what you're after." She stood up and began making her way to the kitchen, inviting Percy to follow her. "Coffee?" She offered.
Percy declined. It wasn't as if he needed any additional energy.
She shrugged and began making some anyway, presumably for herself.
They stood in silence for several minutes, before there was a knocking on the door that didn't sound like Dean.
While Beth was busy with her coffee, Percy stood and went over to the front door, opening it a fraction.
Mary was standing there, all dressed up and looking impatient. However, when she saw Percy her eyes widened, and she stepped back, as if looking for an escape.
Percy sighed. "What are you doing here, Mary?"
"Chase! I was...looking into the Whitshire thing?" She tried, seemingly awful at lying for being raised a hunter.
"Uh-huh." He said, incredulously. "And I'm the Pope."
She looked away, and Percy stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. "Why are you here?" He asked again. "And I mean actually, not just some fib you made up at the last second."
"I was..." Mary seemingly couldn't come up with any other excuse, and didn't seem intent on sharing the truth, so Percy let it slide. It couldn't be terribly important.
Heck, she was probably trying to stalk Percy and Dean, either to repay the favor (unlikely) or because she was suspicious of them and wanted to know what was up (closer), which led Percy to wondering where exactly had he slipped up because there was no reason for Mary to be truly suspicious.
All of a sudden, Dean appeared in the doorway behind Percy, before brushing past him to face Mary.
"So, you snuck out anyways, huh?" He asked, though he didn't seem particularly irritated.
He turned to Percy. "Got some stuff from the kid, and uh...it's not good. I'd tell you, but, well, Mary, so..."
Percy nodded. But it wasn't exactly as if they could ditch her and go have their little private conversation with Mary stranded at the Whitshire's (and how on earth had she gotten there?) so the options were limited.
Until Percy was hit with a stroke of genius. "Could always Mist her after." He suggested.
Dean looked disgusted at the thought. "Seriously? That's your solution? Can't we just, like, wait until she gets home or something?"
"No, because we don't know if your little 'Heaven-Sent-'" Percy used air quotes. "-mission has a timer on it or not, and I don't really want to risk it in case it does."
Dean looked if he'd just been very suddenly reminded of his job, and Percy fought the urge to roll his eyes. And honestly, people thought he was the irresponsible one!
"Listen, Dean. Is it important, or not? Because we have a job to do." He said, trying to be as authoritative as possible.
Dean, looking reluctant and rather irritated, said, "The Yellow-Eyed demon. He's the one that caused this to happen, he's been putting contracts out on souls, to collect in ten years."
"Yellow-Eyed demon?" Percy said. The way Dean had said it, it had seemed especially important to him. Like a personal vendetta, though that shouldn't really be possible, since they were stuck in 1973 and Dean hadn't really even been conceived yet. Which was yet another level of weird to think about.
Then Percy remembered that demons were basically immortal, and things started to fall into place.
He remembered, suddenly and without warning, that night a few days after Halloween. The demon that had sent him on this path, the one that had taken Annabeth….hadn't he had yellow eyes?
"The one that killed our mom. Now he wants something with Sam. Well, wanted."
"Wanted? Past tense?" Percy suddenly had a bad idea. "As in you killed him?"
Dean nodded. "Well, yeah."
"No, no, no…." Percy freaked. "You idiot!" He wasn't sure if he was yelling at Dean or himself, but he was absolutely terrified. If they had killed the demon responsible for taking Annabeth, then who had her now? He'd been working for so long on tracking the damn thing down, finding a way to kill it so he could get Annabeth back, and now everything was gone!
Dean looked angry. "It killed my mom! Dad's had us after it my whole life! And when I finally get a chance to kill it, what do you expect me to do, invite it to dinner?"
"Argh!" Percy was incredibly frustrated, on the edge of a panic attack. "Three years of my life, wasted! And now I have to start all over again in finding her, Annabeth, thanks to you two…geniuses, but this time I don't have a head start! All the demons know who I am, by now!"
"Percy." Dean said, face carefully blank. He was clearly attempting to calm Percy, and it was kind of –almost –working.
Percy startled when he heard his name, then looked down, suddenly ashamed of his outburst. Oh, the emotions were still there, but it was kind of hard to keep it up when you knew you were being irrational.
"I know it sucks." Dean continued, displaying unusual, true, compassion, not the fake stuff he used when dealing with grieving mothers and siblings. "I know that you've been working for this, believe me, I know. My whole life used to be devoted to tracking down a single demon."
"The same one." Percy muttered under his breath.
"But Annabeth was clearly important, right?" Dean carried on, either not hearing or ignoring Percy's comment. "They wouldn't kill her, not yet. They'd just move her to one of the other higher-ups. They're targeting you, they wouldn't let a-" Dean made a face "-a 'good resource' go to waste."
Percy nodded. "Sure. But this still means I have to work on tracking her down all over again. And I've been told to watch over you two."
Dean looked thoroughly displeased by the notion.
"Anyways," Percy attempted to course-correct, get them back on track. "Why was Azazel after the souls? I didn't think he was that kind of demon." Percy thought about his casual use of the name, and how giant-fighting him would have flinched like it was some awful affront unto the powers that be. But was it really worth caring about at this point?
Dean gave him a look that implied that there was a lot of personal history riding on that statement that he didn't particularly want to share. "He's…trying to create a leader for his army."
Azazel's helping the Titans? The first thing that sprung to Percy's mind was Kronos' monster army, but that couldn't possibly be it. It was years in the future, the plans had barely been set in motion yet. The Great Prophecy existed, sure, but that was it. Luke hadn't even been born yet.
And he was getting really distracted again.
Mary spoke up, then, startling Percy. "How do you know that?" She asked, suspicion laced heavy in her tone.
Percy nearly pulled his sword on her, and wondered exactly how –and why –she'd stayed quiet so long. It took him far too long to come up with a suitable answer, but by then Dean was already speaking.
"I happened to have a run-in with a particularly talkative demon a few years ago."
Mary sighed. "Is there anything you two aren't lying about?" She asked, not sounding accusatory, but resigned. "You stalk me, and go to the farm investigating, and seem to know exactly what to look for, but you lie all. The. Time. Have you told any truths since you've arrived?"
Percy didn't even bother trying to look ashamed, because he really wasn't. He was still prepared to make Mary forget this entire encounter, as soon as Dean gave the go-ahead, so he wasn't unduly worried about what she thought of them.
So maybe he did have a bit of a reliance on the Mist, but who could blame him? It was the easiest way to create and keep a low profile, and that's what he was trying to do, even when Nico had rather irritatingly sent him to watch over the Winchesters (oh, he was so not over that).
Dean, however, looked reluctant to mess with Mary, and Percy was getting increasingly close to stepping in, with or without Dean's permission. Despite what Dean felt, Mary, to him, was unimportant and he didn't exactly want their covers blown.
"Yeah." Dean argued, sounding overly defensive. But he lost most of his validity when he actually had to stop and think about it.
Mary shook her head. "You two—you're abysmal at lying. It's a wonder to think you manage to pull off hunting at all. What are you actually doing here? And don't feed me that empousa drivel. Those don't come to the Americas."
Percy was sorely tempted to correct her, but it would be useless anyways.
"We're hunting a demon that, as you might have heard, killed my mother." Percy took a moment to appreciate the irony in Dean's statement.
Mary, for being however subtly called out on blatant eavesdropping (not that she could really be blamed, she was only four or five feet away), didn't look guilty in the least. She was really showing off her stubborn streak, keeping her mind on a single track until she got her answers.
"So then why were you following me?" Mary asked, eyeing them.
"You're one of the targets," Dean said. He rolled his eyes. "Is that so hard to imagine?"
"Yes." She said. "Because there really isn't a way you'd know that. Demons aren't nearly as 'talkative' as you make them out to be, not unless they're gloating. Hell, the only way you'd know that is if you were time-travelers…." She trailed off, sounding less and less sarcastic. Percy could almost see the gears running through her head.
And then the penny dropped, and her eyes widened. She started hyperventilating, and fixated on Dean. "You…you're…."
Percy didn't hesitate, and bent the Mist over her as strongly as he could, doing his best to erase the memory. She collapsed, and he caught her before she could hit the wooden slats beneath them.
Dean didn't even give him the stink eye, just processing everything with a stunned look on his face. "I…I didn't think she'd be able to put it all together…."
"Yeah, well, Sam didn't just pull Stanford out of his ass, did he?" Percy snarked. "You should give your family more credit. John aside, you're all pretty smart."
"You've never met him…?" Dean asked, starting off assertive but trailing off into a question.
"No." Percy said. "But anybody who raises kids from a young age to toss themselves into dangerous situations is clearly missing a few brain cells. Now. What should we do with your mother? I'm fairly sure Grandpa Sam is gonna kill us if we drop her off like this."
Dean, still staring with wide eyes, suggested putting her in the back seat of the car, until she woke up.
Percy hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, then stalked off in the direction of the car, Dean following slowly behind.
He dumped her unceremoniously inside the Impala, ignoring Dean's "Hey!" (Though was it for his mother or his car? He wasn't sure) and facing him.
"What do you want to do, Dean?" He asked, having run out of ideas. Theoretically, they could try to track down the body that the demon'd stolen, but that wouldn't do much good. He'd just go and possess somebody else.
Dean thought for a moment. "Well, we have some really clear leads. We know that Yellow-Eyes is here, recruiting souls, and that at some point or another he's going to be coming after Mom. Can we just wait it out or something?"
Percy was thinking. "Today's April 31st. You said that the demon's collecting on his bargains in ten years?"
"Yeah, why?" Dean said, though the look on his face told Percy he was slowly catching on.
"Ten years, and two days." Percy said. "That's Sam's birthday."