sirenspull_logs | and it's an even sum, it's a melody

[ Things had been going well enough. Boring, if anything. That's why an agitated, hollow-eyed Sam is pacing around the warehouse he'd been holed up in, hand over his mouth. If Dean hadn't told them by now, he probably never would. And Sam wasn't scared of them, the other Winchesters. His parents. If he had to go and tell them himself, he would.

Probably. For now, he's just mulling it over, looking ruffled. ]

[ He didn't know which of them were home, if any. He didn't know if any of them knew, or if they all did. If they figured it out, or if someone'd had to tell them that their younger son wasn't the same anymore. Sam isn't scared of anything, and certainly not of John or Mary. He doubts Dean'll be there, not that that matters, either. So it's even, measured, when he raps on the door. ]

[Dean's home because he's not a fan of running and after a week long sexcapade with Jo, working out all that sexual tension even he needs a break.

He's got a beer in one hand when he goes to answer the door. He's not expecting Sam. The guy disappeared in the fray for God's sake.

So, when he sees his brother on the other side of the door he stares with a tight jaw before swiftly shutting it in his face.]

[ Oh, Dean, you don't even know if it's your "real" brother or not. Sam doesn't say anything at first as the door's shut in his face, but then he knocks again. ]

Dean? [ It's not exactly patient-sounding. It's a little testy. ] Just open the door.

[In the kitchen, Mary looks up from her book worriedly. Knocking is rare enough (half of Mary and Dean's usual visitors just fly in), slamming the door in their face is even rarer, and hearing Sam's unhappy voice on the other end is cause for enough concern that she dog-ears the book and walks into the living room.]

Dean?

[She starts to ask him what he thinks he's doing, keeping Sam out, but the look on his face makes her ask a different question.]

What's wrong?

[John's in the living room, watching shitty Canadian tv and pointedly being aggravated at Dean (he just couldn't listen to him about Jo, could he?). He doesn't think much of it when he gets up to answer the door, but when he hears Sammy and the door slam, he knows something's up.]

Dean?

[He gets up and turns, looking from Mary to Dean curiously.]

What's...

[Dean's already pouring whiskey into a red solo cup when his parents start in on their nosy nagging crap.

He doesn't know how to break it to them, how to tell them Sam was the guy that took him out in Old Town. He knew how his Dad would react, steely silence and the inevitable throw down. He wasn't sure about his Mom, he really didn't want to break her heart again. The death and avoidance had done enough damage.]

Not a snow ball's chance in hell, Sam.

[Sam. He doesn't even bother calling him Sammy. Dean holds up a palm to his Mom when she comes closer, glad for once that John's on his ass on the couch like a normal Dad.]

Look, he's not... normal. He's different, and we'd all be safer cuttin' him out for a while. At least until he gets sent back home for the turn over.

[ Don't bother calling him Sammy. He'd really hate it. ]

I'm just here to talk. [ Honestly, he's got no plans to kill you again. That'd be such a waste of ammo. ] And I'm not planning on going home for a turn over any time soon, so you might as well just talk to me.

[Mary looks from the door to Dean with worry.]

Dean, what's- what's going on? What do you mean, different?

[Sure, he'd been acting weird since Dean died, but that was normal in her experience. Winchester children under pressure retreat and hide; that's how it works. Sure, the first time that happened that Winchester had a breakdown and ran out into the darkness, and the second time it happened it turned out to be the product of a long-kept horrifying bloody secret- and that, in fact, was Sam. But as far as Mary knows, her boys hide and introvert when things get really intense.

It's only been a little worrying.

And yet- a little. That small seed of worry that always accompanies Sam now has been growing, since he doesn't return calls promptly (the way he used to even in the deepest darks of his blood addiction- maybe he acted strange but always, always he would return a call, for her. If only for her. So she's had reason lately to be concerned.]

[The last thing Dean wants is to spill the beans to his mom, not where Sam can hear. He doesn't want to face his brother, or what's left him. He doesn't want to see him unless it's his Sam. Sammy. The one he spent years on gigs with and stopped the apocalypse with.

He drops his voice really low and turns to face his Mom.]

He doesn't have his soul.

[He wants to leave it there but even he knows it's not enough of an explanation. Not when he's so hell bent on cutting him out like this.]

He's the one who wasted me in Frontier Land.

[John laughs, half from shock and half from.....well, he's nervous.]

No. You're wrong.

[There was always that cruel little nagging at the back of his mind, it was too clean and close, had to be a hunter but he brushed it away as his weapons grade paranoia. His little boy couldn't-

But Sam's been wrong for so long here, with the blood and the secrecy. It shouldn't be that big a leap.

That's the problem. It shouldn't be. ]

He's right. [ Yeah, he'll admit to it, there's no point, otherwise. They'll believe Dean sooner or later. ] And if you let me in, I'll explain why.

[ He's not afraid of them. Not of them alone, or together. Actually, it occurs to him that he could use John, since patricide had been the alleged way to keep his soul out of his body. ]

[In response to Dean, Mary immediately let out a yelp.]

What? No! No. Don't say things like that.

[She stares at Dean like he did something grievously wrong, not really catching on how inappropriate her reaction is, when Sam's voice crashes in with the reminder that yeah, she's gonna have to actually deal with this. It isn't a bad dream. She looks at the door, stress rising, and isn't sure what to say, but-

the door unlocks. If any of them try anything- the slightest thing- if Dean tries to hurt Sam, if Sam is really dangerous and pulls something, she'll make sure they can't.]

[Mary waits for hours afterwords. After the dust settles, the ruffled fur starts to come down, the ringing of screams dulls in her ears. After Sam has stormed out from the chaos and leaves the three of them behind to stare at the door and wonder what the hell to do now, leaving John and Mary to realize with horror that the answer had been staring at them and they had the monster in their house the whole time, that's when Mary moves.

It's easier for Mary to accept it than John, she suspects. She spent more time with the Sam of before than John did, and had more months to see the strange behavior that should have tipped her off to the terrible blood secret he'd been hiding. She spent so much time with Tom Hanniger, visiting the poor man several times a week for months on end to be the one thread of kindness in his life, and that turned on her too in a mess of bloody horror.

So while it tolls through her like a death knell, it brings not shock but acceptance. The same dull acceptance with which she accepts every horrible thing in her life of late; of course someone she loves has died, of course someone has gone home, never to see them again in this or any universe. Of course she has nightmares about the Hunting Grounds. Everybody she's ever gotten near in this place has either left, hurt her, or somehow turned on her at some point- this? This is no different.

It makes a terrible kind of sense. That it be Sam. There's a darkness in him, and while Mary thought that was gone with the addiction, she now understands that it has come back in a more terrible form, animating this heartless creature in a way even demons can't.

John and Dean can't do it. She doesn't begrudge them that- they're too attached. They've known Sam too well and loved him for too long to do anything about it. That's okay; Mary knows what she has to do.

A few hours after Sam leaves, Mary follows. John, lost in shock and soaked in whiskey, doesn't stop her. Dean has retreated upstairs, avoiding eye contact and all attempts at comfort, and doesn't notice her leaving.

Mary holes up in her car with a flashlight and an NV, using the tracking software that Magneto gave her months ago. It's easy to find Sam, once she figures the friggin' thing out. It helps that she remembers, from the last version of Sam, where he likes to go when he runs.

This particular place is attached to the Underground Mall complex, so arriving after dark is easy. She knocks on the motel door briskly, armed to the teeth in every hidden place. Her eyes are as curiously blank as Sam's are these days.]

[ He expected one of them to come. Actually, he'd thought one of them would try and take him down back at the apartment. It wasn't a big surprise, though, that none of them had taken action. They'd been too weak. Still, someone's shown now, and though it could be an innocuous visit... well, he doubts it.

And he doesn't answer the door. Sam's lurking, also armed, eyes trained on the door from where he's standing around a corner. Whoever it is, they're not getting the jump on him. Not now. ]

[Fine, he wants to be that way about it?

She knocks again. Insistently. There's a peephole; he can look for himself. She doesn't have her gun out or look obviously armed. In fact, her unhappiness is showing through in something resembling vulnerability for anybody who cares to look, obvious in her thoughtful eyes and the way she tensely grips at her own jacket.

[ He doesn't go to the peephole at first. It doesn't matter who it is; if they've found him, they're probably not good news. After a brief while, base curiosity wins over, and he heaves a heavy sigh before moving quickly to the door.

It's Mary. He grits his teeth. There're no emotions there, obviously, but he doesn't think her a threat. Yes, he knows she's a hunter, and a damn good one, but his constant stream of instinct and arrogance, he thinks, trumps all that. ]

What? [ He calls out, still wary. ]

Sam, it's me. Can we talk?

[She does mean it. They need to talk. Mary needs to see if some part of Sam is still in there, despite everything Dean and Castiel said, if some part of her little boy can still be saved. They both said and Sam seemed to confirm that the only thing to save him would be getting his soul back, which he could only do at home, but she doesn't want to just jump to that immediately. After all, there's only one way to send someone home.

So she wants to talk. Talk, that he might say something to save himself. She's praying for it.]

[ There's a very long wait. A silence. ]

Yeah. [ It's cold, stoic. And there's another pause before he unlocks the door. ]

I'm sure you're armed, so don't think I don't expect that.

[She grits her teeth, steels her jaw against the sight of him and nods.]

I'm sure you do. I just want to talk.

[It's almost not a lie.]

Fine. [ And he tugs open the door, stepping back instinctively. Before, when he'd had his soul, the sight of her made him feel... well, it was something hard to place. Especially for someone who didn't get emotional. But now, she just made him nervous, wary. He wishes very much that she'd just leave before this turned into another big soap opera. ]

What?

[She walks in and turns, looking around the bizarrely meticulous room and not seeing any sign of the man she's still instinctively looking for. Not having an excuse to call this whole thing off leaves her feeling curiously empty, so that it almost comes as a relief. If the issue were muddled, this would be even harder to solve.

This is a simple solution. Clean. Inhuman. She's doing the hard thing when nobody else will.

But this is a scene, so she acts for him: perfectly in-character, even coloring it with shades of honesty in the emptiness of her expression and the unhappiness showing through.]

I want to talk, Sam. I've heard everyone else talk about you in your... condition, but not you.

[She sits down on the bed and looks to him, wondering if he'll bite. Hoping the talk will give her some glimpse that the real Sam is in here, and give her an out from this. God, it's so hard to keep buttoned-up about it. She can't completely hide it- her, with her impressive lying ability.

Truth be told, the pain and worry showing through make her believable. It makes her look a little plaintive under the businesslike mannerisms.]

I want to hear it in your own words.

My condition. [ He laughs, and it's a low, contemptuous sound that she's likely never heard from him. ] That's what they think of me? That I'm a disease, some kind of...

[ He shakes his head, pacing. They're all so ridiculous, so hard-headed and weak-minded. Mary's here to try and make things right, maybe, to reason with him. That's his guess. But he won't budge. He just doesn't give a damn. ]

Look, I know what you're looking for, and I'm not going to say it. I'm not sorry I took out Dean, I'm not sorry for what I am. He was going to try and take me out; I just got to him first.

[ He eyes her closely, just on guard. ]

I'm not a demon, I'm not possessed. I'm all the better parts of Sam. Looking out for myself in a way that he never did.

Looking out for you? [In-fucking-credulous.] You're kidding, right?

Sam, don't be stupid. I did some reading tonight. It's probably stuff you studied years ago in college. Altruism. Sam, being good is part of human nature, we couldn't survive without it. People are good to each other because we all survive together.

[She uncrosses and recrosses her arms, staring at him quizzically, trying hard to understand him.]

Don't you think having a soul is important for that?

I think having a soul is what brings people to conclusions like that. [ He's not dumb, just calculating. Selfish. ] We all survive together, that's true. And I've got nothing against that, nothing against co-existing. But this touchy-feely Hallmark crap? It only makes it that much harder to make the tough decisions. When being good gets in the way of survival, it's a problem.

[ Hence, Dean. ]

I know this isn't what you want to hear. But it's the truth.

and it's an even sum, it's a melody

thread a, afternoon, closed to prue

thread b, night, for dean, john, and mary

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thread c; closed to Sam and Mary

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