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Where do we go from here? - John Winchester - 10-05-2019

The Impala was the same. Well, almost. John could pick out some of what had been replaced over the years. The interior had been retooled. The engine sounded different. Someone had replaced the transition, which had been starting to grind after ten years on the road.

Mary was driving. That John was wondering how many miles the transition had ultimately lasted probably meant he wasn’t processing that fact very well.

Mary, alive, in 2019. Young as the day she’d died. A damn hunter. Dean and Sam grown, or huddled together in the motel where he’d left them in 1993, depending on how you looked at it. Angels were real. His own father had been a man of letters and had left them a bunker.

Coupla hundred thousand, maybe? Nothing lasted forever. Could be on the third one by now, if that odometer was right. He was glad Dean had taken care of his car.

As they pulled into the long drive leading toward the bunker, he cleared his throat. “Well, uh,” he said. “Thanks for the ride.”


RE: Where do we go from here? - Mary Winchester - 10-06-2019

The Impala. John’s car, but more recently, Mary had accepted it as Dean’s car. Being returned to a world in which her husband was dead and her sons grown men, hunters, had not been easy for Mary to deal with, but she’d mostly managed. She had made some decisions that might have been questionable, but she’d done her best. In the end, it had brought her back to Dean and Sam, and for that, she was forever grateful.

Driving John’s car with John as a passenger, though, was nearly surreal. If he’d known where they were going, she would have immediately surrendered the driver’s seat to him.

As though Dean wouldn’t have taken care of the car. Or his brother. Mary was thankful that both of them were alive, that they were together and close. At least in that, she knew John had done right by them. Or at least, as right as he could.

“If you’d known the way, you would have driven.” She stated it as the fact that it was, knowing full well her husband couldn’t be thrilled about being a passenger in his own car. She went silent for a long moment, considering what else she could say before she murmured, “They’re good men, John.”


RE: Where do we go from here? - John Winchester - 10-06-2019

Wasn’t like John had never been a passenger in his own car before. That time he’d been near eviscerated by a ghoul Bobby had hauled his ass back to town in the Impala. Soon as Dean had grown tall enough to see over the dash, a couple years back, he’d started giving the boy driving lessons on the principle that Dean might be in a position to do the same as Bobby someday. Normally, there was something on the side of surreal in sitting in his own passenger seat with someone else’s hands on the wheel.

What had him all turned around was that Mary driving wasn’t like that.

Sure, he’d usually been the one behind the wheel but it’d been her car too. The family car. He had memories as clear as day of his Mary bending over to pack Dean and Sammy into their car seats and driving off to the store or a friend or to a play date for Dean. She’d even picked him up from work once or twice when schedules demanded it. Hell, after the fire, it had been the only thing left of her.

“I guess there are a lot of things I don’t know,” John said, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended. Wasn’t Mary’s fault he was adrift like this. He closed his eyes briefly, listening to the crunch of the tires on the long driveway, then looked at her and tried again. “The boys. They’re...they're all right?”

@eve (posted to wrong thread first oops)

RE: Where do we go from here? - Mary Winchester - 10-06-2019

Of course Mary had driven the Impala before. They’d been together too long for her not to have, but in her favorite memories, it had always been John driving. When it had just been the two of them, before the boys had been born, the Impala had been ‘John’s’ car. He’d chosen it, bought it himself. And oh, the memories they had made together in it were some of the happiest Mary had. But she could feel the tension in the air and wanted to break it somehow. She just had no idea how.

John, alive and well, here in the Impala. At her side. If they could just find Dean, they could be a family again. Her family. God, but she longed for that, more than anything else. But for that they had to find Dean, had to get rid of Michael.

“Of course there’s a lot you don’t know, John,” her voice was softer, the counterweight to his harshness, “There’s a whole lot I don’t know, either.” When he tried again, Mary smiled at him, pride shining in her eyes, not just for the boys, but for him, too. “They’re amazing, John. I never imagined they could grow up to be so close, but they are. You brought them up right, hunters or not.” She reached out to squeeze his hand, her smile faltering just slightly, “Sam is fine, he’s in the bunker. Dean…” She drew in a long breath, “That I know, Dean isn’t hurt, he’s just.. Not here. He left, I’ve was looking for him, but he wasn’t hurt when I saw him last, things are just…. complicated.”


RE: Where do we go from here? - John Winchester - 10-07-2019

John hated that tone. He’d hated that tone when they were married, when they’d been fighting, and it amazed him just how easily it dig under his skin now. Like being upset about all this was irrational and he needed talking down. Then he swallowed back the annoyance, angry at himself for feeling it at all.

Talk of the boys quieted that part of his mind, and so did her hand in his. He closed his fingers around hers, felt her hunter’s callouses juxtaposed against the soft, creamy skin along the back of her hand. Wanted nothing more in that moment than to pull her close and forget the last eight years had ever happened at all.

“Raised them right?” he echoed, running his thumb lightly against the back of her hand, and huffed a humorless laugh. “Been doing the best I goddamn can. Never been enough.”

He let out a breath, forcing focus. He couldn’t afford to let all that messy emotion take him over.

The fact of the situation was, his boys needed him in ‘92, but if there was a way back, the time travel angle meant he had time to sort it out. To sort it all out. (Convince Mary to come back with him.) He could help this future Dean then find that Castiel Mary had mentioned and come right back to the moment he’d left, his boys none the wiser. Confirm the possibility first, of course, on the off chance there wasn’t a deadline to it. And if there wasn’t a way back, well. Dean knew what to do.

He looked at Mary, his gaze even. “Tell me more about this trouble Dean’s in.”


RE: Where do we go from here? - Mary Winchester - 10-23-2019

Of course John hated the tone; it was the same tone Mary adopted when John was getting loud and needed a ballast, the tone that meant that he need to be level headed. It was also the tone that Mary had always used as a hunter speaking to victims of the monsters she’d hunted. It came from being brought up in a life that required you to stay calm, to use a gentle, steady voice, and always, always be ready to stab or shoot something. Or someone.

She’d never wanted this life for any of her family. She’d wanted something nice and quiet, something normal. But what was done was done, she couldn’t change it and she wouldn’t want to change either of sons, either. They were good men and wonderful sons and she loved them fiercely.

“You’re enough, John. I never doubted you would be.” Smiling, Mary tipped her head to rest against his shoulder for just a moment before she straightened up. “I might not have wanted them to be hunters, but I’ll be the first to admit that they’re damned good at it, John. And that’s thanks to you.” Because she sure as hell hadn’t been there to teach them. Any of them. She looked down at her hands, guilt all but overwhelming her at that thought; “I’m so sorry, John. I never thought…I’m sorry.”

The trouble Dean was in. That was a doozy, right there. She gave her husband a weak smile, “Do you have an hour or two?” Looking out the window, she sighed, “Well, you know that demons are really out there. And I told you that angels are, too. But not all of the angels are nice, or good. They’re mostly bastards, actually. Cas is a good one, though, he’s got a good heart. But Michael, as in the Archangel, he’s the trouble that Dean’s gotten into. That’s gotten into Dean.”


I love these two. <3

RE: Where do we go from here? - John Winchester - 11-30-2019

"No. I'm not," John said, but the weight of Mary's head against his shoulder, the smell of her hair, the simple closeness of her, were like a balm on his raw nerves. Nothing was okay, because Dean and Sam were out of his reach in one direction and in trouble in another, but Mary was here. Mary was ALIVE. When she pulled away, it was like something had been ripped from him and he resisted the odd feeling that he was left in the dark and the cold.

"Can we reach him?" John asked. His own portal had closed. It sounded like that might not be the case here. He pulled Mary back into the embrace, holding her. An observer might have thought he was comforting her, but it had never worked that way. Not at all. "We'll find him. We'll save him. It's the only thing we can do."

Me too!

RE: Where do we go from here? - Mary Winchester - 12-19-2019

Hearing John argue his worth, it ripped open a wound in Mary’s heart. She would be the last person to claim that John Winchester was a perfect man, but while he wasn’t perfect, he was good. Good, and hers. Just like she was his, for better or worse. After all these years, and the last ones spent hunting, Mary wore her wedding band. Not around her finger, but on a chain around her neck. Her band, and next to it was his.

Can they reach him? Mary’s face took on the same hard determination it had had on so many occasions before: when she argued with her father about marrying John, when she’d made the deal with Azazel, when she had come back from the dead to realize how long she’d been gone, a ghost and a memory… “We can sure as hell try, John.” When he pulled her back into his arms, she went eagerly, wrapping her own around him, holding him tightly.

She was quiet for a few moments, just enjoying the embrace, enjoying being held by and holding her husband. She hadn’t thought it possible, but here they were, together again. Finally. Alive. Because if she had died, if this were heaven, then Dean and Sam would be here, too. There would be no danger to them, no trouble to save them from. And Michael was both. So she gave herself a long minute to cling to John before she spoke into the embrace, “Because we have to, John. We have to. We can’t let Michael have him.”


Sorry for the lateness here! And I'm working on that Dean/Mary starter!

RE: Where do we go from here? - John Winchester - 01-12-2020

"No, we can't," John murmured back.

He'd meant to let her go. He really had. They had business to attend to, the most important damn business in the world, but he knew there weren't any leads to save Dean yet (at least until that angel Castiel showed up) and parting would just mean facing that cold reality alone.

Pressed up against him, Mary was soft and warm in his arms, and he could smell her once familiar scent, feel her hair against his cheek. It had been so long. So goddamn long. In that moment he wanted her. No, he needed her. Needed her like he had never needed anything else in his life.

He tipped her chin up with his hand and kissed her, one hand moving up her back, the other on the small of her waist. She could push him away, and if she did, that would be that. But they were alone, and there was no where else to be at the moment, and it was Mary and he kissed her, he could only think that she fit into his arms so perfectly it was like nothing else mattered.


RE: Where do we go from here? - Mary Winchester - 02-03-2020

Their marriage had been far from perfect; neither of them were flawless people, but they had never stopped loving each other. Arguments and even downright fights had littered their years together, but in the end they had managed, they had stayed together and overcome every obstacle. Right up until Mary’s devilish deal had caught up to her.

In her husband’s arms, letting herself be held like this, Mary relaxed. Just a fraction, not entirely - there was too much at stake to completely relax, but John would feel the tension in her back, her shoulders, release as she gave and received comfort. She had missed him for so long. How, she wondered, had she managed to be without this? Necessity, yes, but she realized for perhaps the first time, that she had never really gotten over her husband, not truly.

When she felt his fingers at her chin, she looked up, allowing him to guide her gaze to his. As concerned as she was for her son, as important as finding Dean and freeing him from Michael’s grasp was, Mary found herself kissing her husband. They would find Dean and defeat Michael, somehow, but right now, John was here and he was alive and warm and she could feel his familiar lips against her own and that was enough. For just this moment, it was everything.

The world and its brutality, her son, could afford her just this one moment.

She pulled back from the kiss slowly, closed eyes opening as she did, her smile soft and full of love for the man before her, “God, I missed you, John Winchester.” Her voice came out as a whisper, for his ears only, growing even softer as she added, “I love you.”