taxonomites | 002: [Location: Winchester House] Twisting the arm of the injured.

There were some things that Mary couldn't ignore.

She wanted to pretend that Dean was a more well-adjusted version of herself; he had his own life, with his own friends and his own interests. He could have simply hated his job, whatever it was in his world, but she was starting to think that there was another reason why he hadn't mentioned having one. They had a lot of off-limits subjects, and she'd hit one right after the other while she tried to get to know the man her little boy had become. He wasn't giving her a lot to go on. It had become quite obvious to her that Dean was deliberately leaving out any detail that he thought she might not like.

Apparently he didn't realize that his reluctance to say anything about his life was a statement in and of itself. It made her feel guilty to think that she could use taking care of him to her advantage, but he'd been staying in her house while he recovered, and it seemed to be an ideal time to get a confession out of one of her boys. She could push a little, get some answers, and then distract him with food, or force him to take another nap. Toby had said that he was doing much better, and she believed him. But as his mother, Mary wasn't going to accept anything less than him being perfectly healthy again, and she planned to make sure that he'd recover as quickly as possible.

When she walked into the guest room, she was carrying a tray with two mugs of hot chocolate, and a plate of warm snickerdoodles. She'd dropped a few tiny marshmallows into his cup, but had also left a small bowl of them on the tray. "You're quiet today. It makes me wonder if you're feeling worse instead of better," she teased, setting the tray down in front of Dean. She picked up her mug and set it down on the nightstand, then moved to fix the pillows he had in back of him for support. "Everything alright?"

She'd get to her interrogation in a minute. Even she knew that Dean Winchester being quiet wasn't normal.

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The minute Dean's sitting up, she's leaning forward, trying to make sure that he doesn't hurt himself. "Lay down, honey," she whispers as an order, wanting to make him a promise that she knows she's going to break the second Sam gives her a chance.

"You'll hurt yourself and that'll mean being stuck with me even longer." Mary hated admitting it, because as much as she loved having him with her, she knew that he didn't belong there. He was nearly as old as she was and more intelligent than she could have ever hoped to be. Bossing Dean around was a little bit like talking to a wall. She couldn't keep him in the house unless she had a damn good reason for it.

"I'm not going to chase after a demon, but I'm not avoiding him either. Fair enough?" When he was better, they could start talking about how to fix this.

Dean lets her push him back down, and he's panting, eyes closed, trying to not bite his tongue off. Right, sudden movement, that's something he's not supposed to do. Still, he knows she's just hedging, making a deal with Dean to keep him calm. He knows she's going to talk to Sam if Sam approaches her. And Dean doesn't want that, not with Lucifer running around.

"S'what Dad said," Dean mutters, trying to keep as still as possible. His ribs are killing him, and he can barely breathe at the moment, trying to settle down.

"Dad said it, got killed. Can't. Not you." Dean continues, exhausted again.

He's right to assume that she's doing this for him. Mary feels like she's being pulled in different directions; what would help one son would hurt the other. For now, she plans to hold up her end of the bargain with Dean. Going after the demon herself would likely hurt Sam more than it would help him. She hasn't been hunting in over ten years, and she knows that she's out of practice.

She pulls the blankets up for him, smoothing them over while she listens to what he has to say about John. Her husband had let her down in ways that she can't begin to get into, but she feels responsible for all of this. Keeping it all from him had always felt like the right thing to do. Seeing her sons suffer because of it made her realize that she should have said something to him years ago, and worked out a plan before she'd started putting it behind her.

"You think I'm fragile because I died in your world," she commented, getting very quiet. "It's very clear that we're both a long way from our old lives. I'm not like your father." If anything, they complemented each other because they were so different. "I'm not even like whatever you may remember of me. Being here changed all of that, Dean. It changed me." And it's not right to hold dying against her when she hasn't done that yet.

"You have to give me some credit. I know how much I can handle. I'll know when I get into something that I can't."

Somehow, Dean's not believing that. And considering how the rest of his family acts when there's something out there too big for them to handle, he's got good reason to.

Instead of answering, Dean lays there, head buzzing, eyes closed. This is stuff he'd never thought he'd have to deal with, and he definitely doesn't want to deal with it now. He doesn't want to explain to his mother that Sam was addicted to demon blood and is now the vessel for the Devil. He doesn't want to explain to his mother that he's the vessel for an archangel, and that Heaven and Hell are fighting, and that Dean's terrified by the idea that he might have to go head to head with Sam.

"Yeah, sure." It's not much to go off of, but Dean has no idea what to say to that. He wishes he could think of some distraction from the subject at hand, but there's nothing.

"Yeah, sure," Mary answers, wanting him to see how that sounds to her. She knows that he's only saying it to make her happy. He does a lot of things to make her happy, and none of them go unnoticed by her. It's the same way back home, but she's the only one who remembers it. "I never thought I'd be anywhere like this." She doubts that anyone expects these things, but it's as weird as everything that she left behind.

"I'm lucky that this place pulled me in." Mary has to say it, because as difficult as all of this is, she knows it's better than anything they were going to get back home. "We can get to know each other while we're here. We'll figure this out, Dean. With Sam - and when that's settled. I'm never going to get to see you grow up, but I do love you. I love who you've become. You know that, don't you?"

Dean listens to that quietly. That's definitely something that both hurt and felt good about hearing all of that-- because she loved him, something he'd always wanted to hear. But then again, it was just... it was weird, being like this. Having to face his mother after years and years of living without her, without knowing exactly who she was, without her exactly knowing who he was. It was just weird.

"Yeah," Dean managed, not looking at Mary. He could feel himself getting all choked up, and he hated the feeling. "Yeah, I know."

She can't help but notice the way Dean is forcing out his words, trying not to show whatever emotion is there underneath. For once, she recognizes that this isn't the time to push, and wordlessly leans over to press a kiss to his forehead. Staring down at him for a moment, Mary finally gives him a soft, still slightly concerned smile. "You should get some rest," she tells him, letting him know that this is the end of her interrogation - for now. "It'll make you heal faster."

It takes just about everything Dean has not to break down right then and there as Mary kisses his forehead. He's never had anything remotely close to this kind of affection, and it's good, so good, but it's bittersweet, as well. This is one of those things Dean knows that when, eventually, they do go home, is going to leave a gaping hole.

"Right," Dean mutters, sinking further into the bed and closing his eyes. "Nap sounds good."

"Look at us, agreeing on something," Mary jokes, straightening up and starting out of the room. She stops at the door, turning back for a moment. "Ring the bell on the nightstand if you need anything." She expects him to yell instead, and that's fine. When Dean starts raising his voice, the whole city will probably be able to hear him, but Mary will be glad to see that energy in him again.

002: [Location: Winchester House] Twisting the arm of the injured.

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