More than a year... I haven't really been watching Supernatural in a while and university has been a lot.
But I just started rewatching Spn and this semester is almost over and I still have so many ideas for Amy's journey, so i really hope to get back to updating the next few weeks :)
For now, here's this chapter:
Things We Lost In The Fire
The next day is different.
I didn't sleep well, tossed and turned all night trying to get at least some shut-eye. At 6am I give up and get out of bed. I take a shower, trying not to cry. I hate this day already.
When I get into the library I'm surprised to see Dean there. Normally, he should still be asleep and get up hours after Sam and Magda would be up. But no, Dean's sitting at one of the tables. There's a bottle and a glass in front of him.
When he sees me come in, he says "Cheers," and raises the glass at me. It's half full and he downs the golden brown liquid in one gulp.
I take two steps towards him and take the bottle out of his loose grip. When I sniff at it the wave of alcohol hits me. It's whiskey. And I recognise the bottle from the grocery trip we took the day before yesterday, before we watched Halloween movies. It should be completely full, last night when I put some unopened beer back into the pantry the whiskey bottle was still unopened. And now it's half empty.
"What the fuck, Dean?" I put the bottle back down on the table and when it hits the wooden surface he winces at the loud noise. He's plastered.
"What, you got a problem?"
"A problem? Yes, I do. It's seven fucking am and you're hammered. So, yeah, I got a problem with that."
When I try to take the glass away he holds it tight and grabs the bottle and yanks it out of my hands. I'm surprised by the force he uses to hold onto the alcohol and a surprised "Hey!" slips out.
Before Dean can answer, Sam comes into the library and asks us what is going on.
"Dean is shitfaced, that's what's going on," I say.
Sam sighs and takes a good look at his brother. "Dean, it's seven in the morning. What is this?"
"Well, for one, it's tradition. Also, she's back."
"Who?", Sam and I ask in unison.
Dean ignores our question and asks Sam: "Why aren't you drunk?"
"Why the fuck should he be?" I'm yelling. I'm angry. Not necessarily at Dean, mostly at myself. And at the world. I'm just... angry.
"It's November second, the worst day of the year. We always get drunk on November second. So, take a seat Sammy, get a glass and join me." Dean is slurring his words.
"Dean, Sam, what the hell is going on in here?" None of us heard Mary sneaking up on us. We all jump and turn in her direction.
"Mom! Guest of honor!" Dean raises the bottle in her direction.
"Why are you drinking?"
Sam and I share a look. We both just realized why. November second.
But Mary? Apparently she hasn't caught on. Or maybe she doesn't know what this day means.
"You don't even remember," Dean scoffs, "you don't even remember the day you died."
Mary looks surprised, she really didn't know.
What is she doing here then? Why did she come back?
"Hear that, Sammy? She doesn't even remember. Worst day of our lives and she doesn't even know."
To be honest I hadn't completely put it all together until now either. I've been so swept up in why this day sucks so much for me, I completely forget that it's also the anniversary of Mary's and Jess' deaths.
Dean is waiting for Mary to say something but she doesn't. She just stands there, watching, waiting for someone to explain or say something else.
After a few seconds of silence, Dean gets up. His steps are unsteady, I'm a little scared he won't make it to the corridor leading back to the rooms. But he does. He uses a hand against the wall to stabilize himself, the bottle of whiskey still firmly in his grip. He walks down the hall and out of our sight.
At first, the three of us are standing there in silence. But when we hear glass shattering Sam runs after Dean and I'm left alone with Mary.
It's barely seven am, the sun must have just risen, and this day is already over for me.
Suddenly all the anger I felt before just leaves me. Exhausted, I fall on the chair Dean sat in just a few moments ago.
Slowly, Mary walks over to the table and sits down next to me.
"I... I died on November second?"
I can't help but scoff. "Yeah. Yeah, you did. Just like Sam's girlfriend 22 years later."
"Oh." She sounds sad.
A few moments of silence fall over the library. But I can't keep myself from asking.
"Why are you back?"
"I just,... I don't know." Mary shrugs, she's not looking at me but down at the table. Afraid to face me.
"Then why did you leave?" That's the thing I truly don't get. Why did she ever leave in the first place?
"This is so much harder for me than I thought it would be, I just can't-"
I cut her off. "Hard for you? What about your sons, huh? Don't you think this is hard on them too?"
"Yes, of course, but I-"
"You're their mother. You died when they were little kids. And now you're back and the have a chance to get to know you but you just up and leave. Without an explanation, without a goodbye. So why don't you just get over yourself or stay the fuck away?"
"You have no right to talk to me like that! Those are my kids!"
"I'm related to them too! You have no more right to call them your family than I have! At least I am here and not abandoning them over and over again!"
I know I sound harsh. I know I probably went too far. But I can't hold back. Not today. Today is already too much.
Mary doesn't answer.
"I'm not abandoning them, I just can't be around them! I went from being the mother of two little kids to them being as old as I am! They're grown up and I barely recognize them."
I don't know what to say to that. She's still so focused on herself. Can't she see what this is doing to her sons?
In the silence that follows, we hear muffled yelling coming from the rooms. Sam and Dean must still be arguing.
For a second, I'm worried about Magda. I hope she's still asleep and doesn't wake up from the shouting. She really doesn't need to be dragged into this, not when she is finally getting comfortable in the bunker and around the two men.
"You know I grew up in an orphanage, right?"
Mary nods. "Yeah, why?"
"I've seen a lot of damaged children. I know what they look like even years after they were hurt.
I know kids that never had enough to eat. They're always focused on their next meal, even if they actually have enough to eat for now. They stuff their faces with everything they can get their hands on. You know who is like that?"
She finally looks me in the eyes, at least for a few seconds. I think she knows where I'm going but she doesn't respond.
"Dean. Dean eats everything he gets in his hands. Because he grew up not knowing when his next meal was going to be or where it would come from. But Sam? Sam is picky. He'd rather go a few more hours without anything to eat than eat something he doesn't want to eat. Because he never had to worry about food."
Mary's looking down at the table again.
"I know what kids are like who grew up not getting enough love from the people they admired. From their parents or whatever. They doubt themselves, play down their talents, believe they're stupid or whatever they were told. Dean is like that too. Because he had no one like that that loved him, told him he was doing great, was proud of him. Sam had Dean."
She's playing with her flannel's sleeve now, her eyes glued to her hands on the table.
"Dean is messed up in so many ways, and I've only been here a few weeks, I probably haven't even seen all of it.
But he's still such an amazing person. He's nice, and kind, and funny. He looks out for others, takes care of the people around him.
Sam was hurt too. He had an advantage, he had Dean, someone to look out for him. But the world still tried to tear him down, destroy him.
And still, he's a big optimist, always believes in the good in people, in what they can be no matter what they did or was done to them."
I just want her to understand what I've seen the past few weeks. I just want her to understand why her leaving pissed them off so much.
"They're both such amazing people.
Not because of you and your husband.
But despite of what they have been put through. By your decisions, by your husband's actions.
They are two of the best people I know.
And they managed to become that without their mother around. Without any parent around, really.
Can you even imagine, what they could have been like if you'd been around?"
There's tears in her eyes. The ones that had gathered in mine are already streaming down my cheeks. This day fucking sucks.
"Can you imagine what they could become if you'd bother to stick around and be there for them?
You can't make up for the lost time and they can't either. It's not their fault they're grown up. But it's your fault that the time you lost is increasing. Because you left."
She's wiping away the tears and turns her head even farther away from me.
I don't get it. She got a chance that no one else ever gets. She has the chance to get to know her children, to be there for them.
And she's not taking it.
I'd give so much to have Maya back. I'd give anything.
She's been given this opportunity that others would kill for. And she's wasting it.
And even though I've only known them for a few weeks I don't want Sam and Dean to be hurt again. Not by her.
" So, what I'm saying is, you have to decide. Whether you can stick around and get to know them. Or leave. And don't come back. Because you're hurting them. And that should count more than whatever you're going through right now."
I get up and leave her. On my way back to my room I allow myself to think about Mary's choice. What she'll do.
But once I'm in my room, or the room I live in for the moment, I ban her from my thoughts. It not worth it.
I have enough other things to think of today.
My own fire. My own loss.
November second.
Fuck that day.
