Heaven Can Wait
Sep. 9th, 2006 05:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mf_luder_xfYo! More of Heaven Can Wait, FINALLY! I am probably more excited than you all, even. :-D If you've missed out or want to remind yourself, just check out my heaven can wait tag and they're all in order.
INTERLUDE 4
Mary watched as nineteen years of waiting became the start of a dance. When Sam and Drew shook hands, she saw the spark they felt. It was a kind of soul-touching; two souls destined to be one, meeting once more. She saw both of them react, Sam's eyes turning a deep brown with hope, the shiver that ran through Drew.
When Sam asked, “Dean?” it nearly broke her heart. Knowing that it was, in fact, Dean and not being able to shout out to her youngest son, to have to see that hope die in the next instant when he assumed he was delirious, it tore at her.
As the two parted ways, she followed Sam, knowing that Drew, being Dean, would recover quickly and not think anything of it. He'd be ok. Sam, though. Mary knew he would brood as her son was wont to do.
She watched him in the car as he doubted himself, casually floating along. When they arrived, she took a moment to stare at her old home. She hadn't visited Sam since Drew was born, too intent on guiding him to be the man he had been and the better one he could be. She was surprised and flattered to see Sam had kept up her little garden. Just a few rose bushes, daffodils, pea plants, and a lilac bush—her favorite. Then again, her second son always had been sentimental.
She watched Sam head not inside, but to a new shed. She saw inside, John's Impala. Dean's, she corrected herself. Sam had kept it up, too.
She took a moment to look at her son. He'd grown into a fine man. He'd been just on the verge when he'd visited the house to fight with the poltergeist. Now though, he had his hair cut shorter, though it still curled about his ears. The few strands of silver lent to his distinguished appearance. Being a professor suited him. He'd always been the scholarly one; she'd known, when unlike Dean, Sam kicked her stomach at Brahams, rather than the day-to-day music which had seemed to calm Dean when she was pregnant with her eldest. He'd stayed fit, still a tall beanpole, but he moved with more elegance than when he'd been twenty-two. She had a feeling that, although he was a teacher, he was now better at his 'night' job. Without Dean, he must have felt the need to be even better.
It was more than his appearance though. It was the way he carried himself, the aura of sorrow, but not of unhappiness. He'd taken on responsibility, and kept his promises, both those he'd made out loud and those he'd said to himself. Mary couldn't have been prouder.
She'd noticed him climb into the car and absently stroke at the steering wheel. She fought the urge to reach out and hold her baby boy, let him know he wasn't alone, that his whole family still loved him, that Dean was already back with him. It wasn't until she noticed a few tears leak silently down his cheeks, that she wrapped her ghostly arms about him and whispered, “Keep faith, Sammy,” touching his cheek right before she left him.
She hated seeing her boy so lost, but she knew that if he'd made it this long, he could wait just a little bit longer until Dean remembered himself.
Chapter 5
INTERLUDE 4
Mary watched as nineteen years of waiting became the start of a dance. When Sam and Drew shook hands, she saw the spark they felt. It was a kind of soul-touching; two souls destined to be one, meeting once more. She saw both of them react, Sam's eyes turning a deep brown with hope, the shiver that ran through Drew.
When Sam asked, “Dean?” it nearly broke her heart. Knowing that it was, in fact, Dean and not being able to shout out to her youngest son, to have to see that hope die in the next instant when he assumed he was delirious, it tore at her.
As the two parted ways, she followed Sam, knowing that Drew, being Dean, would recover quickly and not think anything of it. He'd be ok. Sam, though. Mary knew he would brood as her son was wont to do.
She watched him in the car as he doubted himself, casually floating along. When they arrived, she took a moment to stare at her old home. She hadn't visited Sam since Drew was born, too intent on guiding him to be the man he had been and the better one he could be. She was surprised and flattered to see Sam had kept up her little garden. Just a few rose bushes, daffodils, pea plants, and a lilac bush—her favorite. Then again, her second son always had been sentimental.
She watched Sam head not inside, but to a new shed. She saw inside, John's Impala. Dean's, she corrected herself. Sam had kept it up, too.
She took a moment to look at her son. He'd grown into a fine man. He'd been just on the verge when he'd visited the house to fight with the poltergeist. Now though, he had his hair cut shorter, though it still curled about his ears. The few strands of silver lent to his distinguished appearance. Being a professor suited him. He'd always been the scholarly one; she'd known, when unlike Dean, Sam kicked her stomach at Brahams, rather than the day-to-day music which had seemed to calm Dean when she was pregnant with her eldest. He'd stayed fit, still a tall beanpole, but he moved with more elegance than when he'd been twenty-two. She had a feeling that, although he was a teacher, he was now better at his 'night' job. Without Dean, he must have felt the need to be even better.
It was more than his appearance though. It was the way he carried himself, the aura of sorrow, but not of unhappiness. He'd taken on responsibility, and kept his promises, both those he'd made out loud and those he'd said to himself. Mary couldn't have been prouder.
She'd noticed him climb into the car and absently stroke at the steering wheel. She fought the urge to reach out and hold her baby boy, let him know he wasn't alone, that his whole family still loved him, that Dean was already back with him. It wasn't until she noticed a few tears leak silently down his cheeks, that she wrapped her ghostly arms about him and whispered, “Keep faith, Sammy,” touching his cheek right before she left him.
She hated seeing her boy so lost, but she knew that if he'd made it this long, he could wait just a little bit longer until Dean remembered himself.
Chapter 5
