Thank you so much Ktoon for beta'ing for me. You're a star. Thank you VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for pre-reading. You ladies made the experience of writing this story so much more fun with your help and support.
Thank you all for coming back to the story for the next installment. I was so happy to see some new names and well as some old friends reviewing the first chapter, and I hope you'll continue to enjoy.
Chapter Two
The trees were starting to thin, and Mary breathed a sigh of relief at the thought that they were almost out. They had been deep in the freezing Mount Jefferson Wilderness for days, hunting down a wendigo, and now it was over, Mary wanted to be somewhere warm where she could finally take her boots off.
They had found the history of attacks on the database of the state police while they had been investigating a missing person's case. She and Dean were sometimes brought in by the PDs themselves, other times they offered their investigative services pro bono to the families of people they thought were victims of the supernatural. They took paid civilian cases, too, which covered their living expenses and other life necessities, but the bulk of their income came from Mary's stake in the Lawrence Garage she co-owned with Mike Guenther and her stake in Bobby's salvage yard and restoration business.
When she'd met him, Bobby had been occupied with salvage and occasional repairs to cover his hunting and living expenses, but a few years ago, with Dean's help, they'd added the restoration business together. They made good money with it. The benefit of the restorations was that they could do it in their own time. Bobby found the cars, and when there was time between hunts, he and Dean worked on bringing them back to their former glory. Bobby dealt mostly with the mechanics and Dean took care of the bodywork. He had a talent for it, even more than with his impressive technical engine skills that he'd learned from Bobby.
Dean had always been more of a physical person that Sam. He had done well in school, but he preferred working with his hands. Sam was the one that loved to study anything and everything. To him, the world was a complex riddle he wanted to solve with the clues in the form of all the information he could gather. He wanted to learn everything he could as fast as he could. Dean was good with lore where it pertained to hunting as he could see its purpose, but there had always been good-natured teasing between him and Sam about his 'geek' brother. Sam was the one that researched lore for pleasure, and he'd read a good portion of the library of books Mary inherited from her parents by the time he'd left for college.
Her boys shared equally the greatest strengths of their grandfather and often surpassed them. Samuel Campbell had been a lore expert and Sam followed in his footsteps there, and Dean followed the skilled hunter side of him.
Since his first hunt at the age of fifteen, a vengeful spirit case (of which the build-up to the event had given Mary nightmares) Dean had known he was going to hunt. The day he graduated high school, he gave Mary his diploma to frame and then eagerly left for a werewolf case with Bobby. He hadn't stepped out of the life since.
Four years after Dean's first vengeful spirit, Mary had given Sam the same chance to take a hunt, and she'd found him his own ghost. Sam had taken care of it, and Mary knew he'd felt some thrill in it and the cases he took after that, but it was never going to be his life.
She liked that they were different in their approaches and passions. They balanced each other out perfectly.
She had never wanted to hunt again after she met John, but she'd gone on with her parents for a while until, the day her parents had died and she'd made her deal to save John, she'd sworn to herself that she'd never hunt again.
She had kept that promise with one exception—to kill the werewolf that had escaped her and Samuel in her hunting days—until John died. Then she'd returned to the life, developing contacts again. Some of them, like Bobby, had become family. And with them, and alone, she'd saved lives. It was her way to repent for the life she hadn't been able to save—the life she had cost by staying in bed that night.
The anniversary of that loss had come and gone for another year, and Mary and Dean had marked it sharing stories, memories and a couple beers at their campsite on the way to the cave system she'd tagged as the wendigo's territory. Mary was upset that they hadn't been able to speak to Sam on the day as they usually did, but there had been no signal since they left her Jeep behind. She wondered how he had passed the day, if he'd been okay. Jessica would have been with him, so he wouldn't have been alone, but there was no one to tell him the stories Mary knew he loved.
They were almost back at the Jeep now though, and they would be able to call him. Dean would be able to brag to his little brother about his win against the wendigo—he had taken it down with a homemade flamethrower without getting a scratch himself as they'd caught it hibernating—and they could find out if Sam had his scores yet. He should as he had taken the LSAT two weeks ago. Mary and Dean had discussed them as they had hiked toward the mountain, and Dean had teased her for her nerves, telling her they both knew Sam had rocked them.
Mary checked her phone and saw there was still no signal. Dean took out his own and cursed. "No battery," he said. "We must have been underground too long."
They had brought solar charge packs with them, but the inability of the sunlight to penetrate into the deep forest enough to give them decent power meant they weren't that useful even before they got underground, and they'd agreed to concentrate on keeping Mary's charged rather than trying to fill both batteries with the limited supply of power.
"We have the charger cord in the Jeep," Mary said. "We're almost there."
"Thank god," Dean said. "I need a shower and some sleep on a real bed. Bedrolls are better than the ground, but not by much. We should have invested in air mattresses."
Mary smiled wryly, knowing she was being teased. "I told you that we could get some if you carried them. I figured we were already loading ourselves down with the tent and other gear."
"I know," Dean said with an exaggerated sigh. "We should have brought Sam with us. We could have loaded him up, too. He would have been useful instead of going to class." He made the word an insult.
Mary rolled her eyes. Dean was as proud as anyone of the success Sam was making of college, but he couldn't help needling him about it, and Mary in his absence.
"We didn't need him for the kill though," Mary said, redirecting him before he could hit his stride. "You took it down."
"Hell yeah I did," Dean said proudly. "And there were no lives lost."
"That's the aim," Mary reminded him with approval.
"Yep." Dean adjusted the straps of his large backpack and carried on along the trail.
Unlike when she hunted with her parents, darting from crisis to crisis, Mary and Dean tried to pre-empt hunts before people were hurt when they could. They traced signs and took action straight away. It was easier as she had access to records and technology her parents never did, and Dean had an instinct for it. There were still crises to deal with—not all monsters left signs that weren't deaths—but they did what they could for as many as they could.
"I see it," Dean said, increasing his pace.
Mary jogged after him and said, "The Jeep?"
"Yeah. Can't you?"
Mary squinted ahead and, though there was a lighter area, she couldn't see a flash of silver that would be her Jeep.
"Not yet," she admitted, knowing she was opening herself to Dean's amusement.
"You're getting old, Mom," he said. "Your eyesight isn't what it used to be. Maybe it's time you think about taking a step back from the life. I can take care of the hunts, and soon Sam will be able to support you in your old age while he's earning his bigshot lawyer bucks."
"I'm not old," Mary said quickly, though she was now fifty-one and starting to feel it. "I can still run circles around you."
"Because I let you," Dean said sweetly. "I don't want to bruise your ego."
Mary laughed and shook her head. As nuts as it made her sometimes, she loved this side of her son. When he was on a hunt, he was completely focused on what had to be done, but the rest of the time he let his love for life come to the fore. He was almost perfectly content in his world. The only thing missing from his life was his father.
They walked on only a little further before Mary saw the silver of the Jeep and knew they were nearly out. Almost at the same moment, Mary's phone beeped in her pocket with waiting voicemails.
She lengthened her stride, eager to get the heavy bag off her back and to hear the messages, and Dean laughed. "Now you're moving."
He sped his own pace, and it became a race of fast walks to the Jeep interspersed with laughter.
Mary dropped the backpack onto the floor and handed Dean the keys from her pocket so that he could load them in the back and she could listen to her voicemails. Dean opened the doors and loaded them onto the empty rear seats as the trunk was full of the custom weapons cases he and Bobby had designed.
Mary leaned against the hood as she dialled up her voicemail and smiled as she heard Sam's voice.
"Sammy?" Dean called to her and she nodded.
"Hey, Mom, it's me. Just wanted to check in today. Hope you're…"
Mary frowned as Sam's voice trailed off and there was a moment of silence before she heard him shout Jessica's name. There was raw panic in his voice that sent shivers down Mary's spine.
As he shouted for her again and there was the sound of the phone hitting something hard—she assumed the floor—the color drained from Mary's face.
Sam was still shouting, but now there was a new sound, a crackling she had heard many times, the most penetrating memory of the worst night of her life. It sounded like fire. An alarm started to blare on the recording, and Mary's heart raced.
"Dean," she said tersely.
"What's up?" Dean asked, walking towards her and finally catching sight of her white face. "What's wrong, Mom? Is Sam okay?"
Mary shook her head, the phone still pressed tight to her ear as she heard the sounds of her son's anguished cries.
Dean leaned close to hear the call, and Mary forced her muscles to unlock so he could hold the phone between then. She heard Dean's breaths speeding as racking coughs began on the line and them the cruel beep of an ended message.
Mary lowered the phone to her side and stared ahead in shock. She was frozen into inaction by terror.
"What was that?" Dean asked quietly.
Mary tried to answer, but her throat seemed to have swollen shut. She licked her dry lips and swallowed, then said in a rasp, "It sounded like a fire."
Dean snatched the phone out of her numb hand and checked the screen. "There's more messages."
He pressed the buttons and then held the phone between them on speaker as a professionally neutral voice said, "This is a message for Mary Winchester. Sam Winchester has been admitted to Sequoia Hospital, Redwood City. If you could call us back on this number, we can give you more information."
A number was reeled off, and Dean mouthed the digits as he wrote them into the dirt on the hood of the Jeep with his finger.
Before Mary could hang up, a new message started to play, and Bobby's worried voice came through. "Mary, call me. Sam's been hurt. He's in Sequoia Hospital. I'm on my way to California now. Call me as soon as you get this."
Mary waited for another message, but there was no more. Sam hadn't called. She didn't want to think of why he wouldn't have called her, what it could mean, but the horrifying thoughts came of their own volition, making her hands tremor.
"We've got to go," Dean said, shaking her arm. "Come on, Mom!"
Mary yanked open the driver's side door and slid in behind the wheel, dropping the phone onto Dean's lap. He passed her the keys and the turned them in the ignition, bringing the engine to life. She slammed the car into gear and the wheels skidded against dirt as they raced forward along the narrow road.
"Call Bobby," Mary said quickly,
Dean dialled in the number and held the phone between them so they could both hear.
It rang four times before Bobby answered, "Mary! About damn time. Where are you?"
"What happened to Sam?" Mary asked, speaking over Dean's own demands for information.
"There was a fire," Bobby said.
"Is he…" Mary couldn't finish the question; she was scared of the answer.
"He's alive," Bobby said, and Mary swallowed a sob. "The doctors say he's stable. Where are you? I've been calling for days."
"We're in Oregon," Dean said. "Just heading towards Culver City now."
"You are still in Oregon," Bobby said with what sounded like relief. "I was hoping you would be. I've been keeping track of the airlines. I can't get you a flight until this evening, so you're going to be slower flying. You should drive."
"It's an eight-hour drive!" Dean said angrily, and Mary knew he was thinking the same as her—it was too damn long.
"It's the fastest way," Bobby said. "And Sam's stable now."
"Tell him we're coming," Mary said, skidding out off of the hardpacked-earth road and onto the highway.
"Yeah," Bobby said awkwardly. "I'll tell him."
"What aren't you telling us?" Mary asked, pressing her foot down on the accelerator now she could get some real speed building on the open road.
"He's not conscious yet," Bobby said gently.
Dean groaned and Mary took a deep breath, blocking out the sounds of the car and focusing on keeping calm for a moment before saying, "Tell him we're coming. Call if anything changes."
"I will. I'll see you soon."
The call disconnected, and Dean dropped the phone down onto his lap.
"It sounds bad, Mom," he said, his voice sounding very small.
"He's going to be fine," Mary said, forcing confidence and calm into her voice. "We've got to go through Culver City to get to the interstate. I'll drop you at the motel to get the Impala and our stuff."
"The hell with that!" Dean snapped. "I need to get to Sam."
"We need the stuff from my bag," Mary said, trying to reason with him. "The copies of his insurance papers. We don't know if Sam lost his card in the fire. I need you to do this for me, Dean." She fixed her eyes on the road, but she could feel Dean's gaze boring into her.
"Okay," he said eventually. "You've got to go fast though. As soon as you've dropped me off, go get there. I'll be right behind you as soon as I've cleared the room."
"I will," Mary promised.
They did need their stuff from the motel—the hospital would need Sam's insurance details and she wasn't sure if Bobby would have thought to take them from the copies at the house—but more than that she needed space. She couldn't be weak in front of Dean, and yet she had never felt weaker. Sam was hurt, unconscious in some hospital, and she wasn't there. He needed her, his mother, and she was five-hundred miles away with hours of driving between her and him.
Bobby said he was stable, but that was all he had said. She could read around the words and knew there was something he wasn't telling her.
She was terrified she was going to lose her son, just like she had lost John.
So… How was that? Writing Mary like this was an experience in and of itself. I have only written her in the later seasons when I don't really like her. I am very fond of this version of her though, and I hope you will enjoy her, too.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx
