fandomhighdorms | Fandom Camp, Main Campfire, Saturday Night

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Fandom Camp, Main Campfire, Saturday Night

A group of students made their way to Fandom Camp to deal with the demon Lysistratas. It seemed quiet enough, but appearances could be deceiving.

[ooc: wide open, check in at V's post if you want, or you can see the group going and join along the way.

~~Please to be waiting for OCD.~~ Is up!]

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"Nice shooting," Dean complimented his brother, climbing back to his feet and beginning to look around for Dawn again.

"Thanks," Sam replied, making a face at the chunks left behind by the tentacle. "Ugh, that's just gross."

He was about to suggest they grab Dawn and go help the others, when he heard someone call out from behind them. "Dean? Sam? Boys, what are you doing out here?"

Dean went pale when he heard the voice. It had been eleven years since he'd last heard it but it wasn't something he was ever going to forget.

He glanced at Sam who didn't have any memory of it at all, not sure what expression he was wearing, but pretty sure it wasn't reassuring.

He didn't want to turn around.

Sam gave Dean a concerned glance before turning around, and then realized why his brother looked so pale. He may not have recognized the voice, but he wasn't clueless enough to not recognize their mother when he saw her.

"You boys shouldn't be out here. It's dangerous," Mary said, fixing her gaze on Dean. "Dean, do you hear me? I'm talking to you."

Dean swallowed hard and, steeling himself, turned around. She looked just like how he remembered her looking.

"I hear you," he managed, voice gruff as he tried to keep his emotions under control.

Sam took a small step closer to Dean, fairly certain that her smile shouldn't have been quite so cold.

"Good," she replied. "You should go home, where it's safe. All these people here, they can take care of this. They don't need your help." She may have sounded like she was addressing them both, but she never took her eyes off of Dean.

"They do," Dean insisted, staring at her. It wasn't her, it couldn't be her, but yet... she was perfectly his Mom in every way except her eyes. Her eyes were dead. But so was she so...

"This is what we do. We fight the kind of thing that killed you."

"That's what your father does. But what about you? How much do you really do, Dean? Must not be much if he and Sammy managed to get along without you for all those years."

Sam shook his head, even if Mary wasn't looking at him to see it. "That's not true," he said, facing Dean. "You know that's not true, right? Why is she saying that?"

Her words spoke to the insecurities deep inside, the ones that he barely admitted to himself, and they would've hit home if he'd been alone.

But Sammy was there and his brother's words and more, the look of complete belief he gave Dean made it easier to dismiss what the ghost was saying.

"Yeah," he said a bit huskily, meeting his brother's gaze. "I know that." He didn't look back at the ghost, but his voice got stronger as he continued. "She's saying that because it's one of the demon's ghosts. It wants negative emotions."

"I should have known it wasn't really her," Sam said, giving Dean a serious look. "She wouldn't say things like that, because they're not true."

"Oh, but you really don't have any basis for comparison, do you Sam?" she asked, her gaze turning to him. "You have no memory of me because I died when you were still a baby." She paused and her voice got colder. "I died because of you, Sam. It was there because of you."

Sam was wondering if the ghost was going to say anything to him, but he hadn't been expecting that. "You died because of that monster," he argued, although it wasn't really an argument against anything she'd said.

"That monster was there because of you. It was in your nursery. My blood dripped on you. If it wasn't for you, the demon would have never come to us.

"It was random," Sam protested, trying to run through the list of lines he'd used for his own rationalizations. "The demon...we don't know why he was there. But it wasn't my fault."

"You're damn right, it wasn't your fault," Dean said fiercely, almost angrily. "You were a victim, Sam, as much as any of us. Not to blame."

Sam nodded mutely, pulling his gaze away from the ghost, towards Dean. "I know. Really, I do."

Dean held his brother's gaze, looking until he saw the belief he needed there, then nodded and turned back to the thing tormenting them.

"Nice try, but we're not buying it," he said bluntly. "And you're not our Mom. She'd never say that kind of thing to us."

As they watched, the ghost began to glow around the edges until she was surrounded by flames until the flames obliterated her entirely.

Sam stared at the blank space where the ghost had been, nearly holding his breath. "Think she's gone?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean said, though he couldn't bring himself to relax at all.

"It's like it knew exactly what to say..." Sam said quietly, shaking his head. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Dean nodded his head once sharply. "Yeah. Appreciated the vote of confidence you gave me too. It helped."

"Good. I was completely serious, you know. Just in case you thought I was just saying those things to try to get rid of the ghost."

"I know. Thanks." He paused. "The same goes for what I told you -- completely true."

Sam might have argued with Dean if he wasn't feeling so drained by this whole experience. It did make him feel better to know that Dean didn't blame him though. "Thanks," he said.

"Hey, no one gets to pick on you but me. I don't care whose mother they look like."

Re: Outside the ritual

likethegun - 2006-07-02 17:35 (UTC) - Expand

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