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Dean had absolutely loved string cheese as a toddler. Mary first bought it soon after their local grocery store started carrying it. What an interesting and not…unhealthy snack for a small child, she had reasoned internally. Now, the sight of the same snack in the fridge of a Circle K made her chest contract and eyes tear up.
Sam had loved the color teal as a baby. Who would’ve thought a baby could have color preferences? He would eagerly reach out and giggle in delight (more than usual) when Mary wore her newest sweater, cable knit teal with embroidered flowers near the hem, or when they passed by the living room curtains of the same color. Now, the sight of a roadster in that exact shade driving down the road caused her breathing to quicken. Her hands absently started worrying at the napkin by her plate.
She would give anything to return to that time and place. Even though the life of a mother—not a hunter—hadn’t quite suited her, she would give up this second life of freedom and purpose for the contentment and security of knowing, at least for the time being, that Sam and Dean are home, warm and well fed under their mother’s fierce protection.
But that wasn’t a trade she could make. At present Mary’s reality was uncertainty and possible loss. Her sons, grown men who had done just fine without her in their lives fora long time, were missing. Anything could have happened to them. Anything could still be happening! Were they being tortured? Was either or both dead? Were they hopelessly lost and without their memories?! Dreadful scenarios, each more fantastical or macabre than the previous, cycled through Mary’s head endlessly when driving. When trying to sleep. When waiting for her order to arrive on the rare occasion that she did sit down to eat something.
What had gone wrong? Why had the boys disappeared? She hated the fact that she had not been there on that fateful day. Regretted having pushed for her independence. Was this to be the result—Sam and Dean disappearing forever? She had been resurrected… for what exactly? To be reunited with her family only to lose them mere moments later?
She shouldn’t have left the bunker. She should have been involved in their hunt for the devil. Regrets swirled together with worries in her mind, a dreadful tornado.
Mary is a fighter though. Even this close to a mental breakdown, she won’t let the tumult behind her eyes paralyze her physically. If anything, she becomes even more fierce in action. The Hunt allows Mary to disengage from intrusive thoughts. With a machete in her hand, there are no regrets, worries, or what ifs playing on repeat in her brain.
Yet when Cas first calls with urgent important news, the spark of both excitement and dread nearly knocks her down physically. Then, an overwhelming rush of relief when she hears they’re alive! It does stop her breath for a moment. Now, her urge to act can be put to the ultimate purpose, saving her boys. She will do everything in her power to save Sam and Dean…and to keep them safe.