She hated herself.
Her baby brother was in danger and all she could do was stare. She almost let her brother die because she froze, and that was unacceptable.
Mercy had curled herself up in the corner of the motel room, as far away from the door as possible, a coping mechanism she had developed when she was young. She could see every entrance and exit so there was no way for anything to make their way in without her knowing about it. A flash of yellow eyes burst into her mind startling her into curling into herself more. Her arms crushed between her legs and stomach gaining as much comfort as she could from hugging herself.
Every second that passed by raised her tension more until she stated bleeding from digging her nails into her own arms. Not that she could feel the pain. All her senses were wired looking for any danger that would come for her brothers.
She knew that Sam was also having a meltdown, rightfully so, his girlfriend had just died. She also knew that Dean was feeling panicked and useless, trying to snap the two of them out of it. But she couldn't calm down yet, she had seen those damn eyes again!
A wave of self-loathing cloaked her once again. She had no right to behave this way. It was achieving nothing but pain for all of them. She was a horrible sister; she wasn't suitable to protect her family. If something as simple as eyes managed to knock her sick then she couldn't claim to be a hunter, a Winchester. She could hear it now, her parents yelling at her, saying she should never have been born. Maybe then her family would be happy and whole?
"Mercy, are you there?"
Was someone talking to her? She didn't know. She just had to keep an eye on the door and a hand on her knife that was discreetly strapped around her waist. Her small silver one, it was a present from Sam and Dean a few years ago.
"Mercy, snap out of it!"
Snap out of what? She was doing her job. She couldn't veer from her duty again; she couldn't let the yellow eyed bastard hurt her family for the third time.
"Mercy, please, Sam really needs you right now!"
Sam? Sammy was in trouble? Did she fail already?! No, no, no, no, no, no, no. How did she screw up this time? Oh God, what if Sam was dying because she can't even make her way out of her own head?!
"Mercy," A hand landed on her shoulder shocking her into motion. In a blur, the source of the offending hand was pinned and her pristine knife placed dangerously close to a vital part of Dean's neck.
Wait a minute, Dean's neck.
Her knife was against Dean's Neck!
Her mind cleared and she realised that her younger brother was pinned underneath her in a very perilous position. His eyes mirroring hers with shock and traces of fear, Mercy sharply moved her armed hand from its place and sheathed it.
"Oh shit, Dean? Are you okay? I'm so sorry!" She manually moved his head from side to side to make absolutely sure that she hadn't managed to hurt him in her dazed state. Deeming him to be unharmed if not a bit shaken, she got off of him and pulled him into a hug.
She felt her body shake with relief and adrenaline. Her body slowly warmed up from its cold dread from her momentary panic. She petted her concerned brother's hair in more of an attempt to calm her down than him. She heard him make an unhappy grunt but allowed her to continue her calming activity.
Dean had always had such soft hair. Not that you could really feel it due to how short it was but it always felt silky when she had a chance to touch it. Though it wasn't as soft as Sam's hair, the kid always took too much care of his long locks and left it smoother than silk.
Her hand froze with tension at the thought. She remembered Sammy, poor Sammy who was going through so much heartbreak.
"Dean, where's Sammy? I need him! You're both supposed to stay with me. Where is he?!" She didn't recognise her own voice. So weak and childish, much like that time all those years ago. It wasn't right, that wasn't her now.
Dean shushed his older sister and slowly guided her to where Sam was watching in worry. There was nothing like your sister breaking down to distract you from sinking into a pit of grief and anger.
As soon as she was in touching distance she grabbed hold of her other brother, her tight grip not allowing either of them to leave her side. And let her know that they were there, they were safe. She had them and they weren't getting out of her sight.
The next few days were difficult for all of them. Sam had become so angry and depressed about the death of Jess. His mood swings always negative and terrifying, one minute he looks like he is about to off himself and the next he's baying for the blood of everyone and anyone.
Many motel rooms were destroyed after his "Episodes" and the other two Winchesters weren't sure what to do other than let him sort it out and stay by his side.
Dean wasn't doing too great either. He hid it spectacularly well, but Mercy knew him too well to be tricked by his macho mask. He was breaking under the stress of supporting Sam and the worry for Mercy.
Mercy didn't talk about what had happened that day but the boys had an idea why she reacted so horribly but never brought it up. No one commented on the fact that she made sure to always know where they were or where they were going and what time they were coming back. She was once again the dependable older sister who had everything under control.
She braved Sam's episodes and let Dean lean on her for support and generally looked after the boys to the point where they had nothing to do but sit and stew, until they had all grown sick of it and went searching for their missing Dad.
It was easier said than done.
"Hey, Mercy, can I ask you something?" Sam called from behind his laptop. He was sat on the creaky motel bed researching for any sign of a hunt their Dad may investigate.
Mercy and Dean were 'practicing their poker' at the table, drinking some form of cheap beer that Mercy didn't really like but she never felt right playing a card game without alcohol. She blamed Dean and their Dad. They were the ones that kept placing a bottle in her hand when they played.
"What's up Sammy?" She asked, slapping Dean's hand when he reached for her drink. He had his own, thank you very much.
"Why do you hate Dad so much?" If it weren't for the salt lining the room, Mercy could've sworn a ghost had appeared. The air became that cold and stiff.
She could see Dean give Sam the 'You should not have said that!' look from the corner of her eye. Sam replied with one of his 'Bitch faces', the boy never did understand some questions were better not asked.
She knew there was no getting out of answering and sighed in defeat and sudden mental exhaustion. Her relationship with their Dad was complicated to say the least.
"First things first, I don't hate Dad, I probably never could. He's my Dad and I'll always love him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get on my nerves."
She shifted slightly, feeling awkward talking about this kind of thing with her two little brothers. The looks they were giving her just made it that much worse.
"I've always disagreed with how he wanted to raise you, you already knew that. But it's more than that." Her voice was tired, weak with emotion.
The silence rung around the room, as she searched for the right words to use. The boys were patient, letting her collect her thoughts.
"I remember how he was before the fire. He was one of those goofy but strict Dad's, he wanted nothing but for us to grow up happy and to achieve great things. He promised me and Mum that you two would become whatever you set your minds on. And that he would always support you no matter what."
"He really said that?" Sam asked in confusion. That didn't sound like the man who disowned his own son for getting into Stanford.
"That's why I don't respect him all that much anymore. He broke that promise and forced us into this life, didn't give any of us the option of doing other things."
She placed her face in her hands, elbows resting on the table top.
"God knows that man loves us with everything he's got. It would be the end of everything if he ever thought anything was more important than us. He will always love us, but he sometimes loves too much. He goes after this yellow eyed monster because he's scared it's going to come back and hurt us."
She raised her head and made sure to make eye contact with both of the hunters. The intensity of her stare caused the boys to be unable to look away.
"He's not a great Father, but he's not a terrible one. He's our Dad and don't you ever believe he wouldn't crawl through hell for us."
Mercy knew the boys weren't going to be able to sleep that night. They had been distracted ever since she had answered Sam's question, thinking over what she said. Probably trying to fit her description with how they saw him.
John Winchester was the most contradictory father to ever exist. He loved them so much, but never showed it. He was scared and paranoid, but covered it with promises of avenging their mum. He wanted them to live the best life they can and stay safe but forces them to go on life threatening cases all the time.
Mercy knew her Dad was a bastard, but he had a good heart, even if he couldn't raise them for shit.
She was the one who fed them.
She was the one who enrolled them into school and made them do homework.
She was the one who made them join sports clubs that would teach them skills that would keep them alive if in trouble.
She was the one who taught them how to read and write and count.
She was the one who bought the boys clothes and made sure to buy too big male clothes for her, because money for clothes wasn't always there and the kids were shooting up like weeds.
She taught them right from wrong and stood up for them if some nosy idiots thought they were delinquents.
She dressed them and put shoes on their tiny feet.
She read to them when they couldn't sleep and sang to them when they were ill.
She taught them how to tie their shoelaces and how to keep the room from being invaded by supernatural creatures.
She made sure they never thought they were freaks and gave them the most normal childhood she could.
Mercy raised herself and her brothers in her father's place. But she wasn't angry at her Dad because she had to raise Sam and Dean, no, she was angry that she had to do it alone.
Nothing scarred the mind and soul more than being forced to grow up when you hadn't yet reached double digits, to become a parent before she could experience the world.
That was why she didn't think John Winchester had any right to decide how they were raised no matter how much he loved them.