Truly, the Lie is Flawless - SN fic - PG13

[tigriswolf]

Title: Truly, the Lie is Flawless

Fandom: “Supernatural”

Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.

Warnings: spoilers for pilot; AU, I assume

Pairings: John/Mary

Rating: PG13

Wordcount: 620

Point of view: second

Notes: originally posted under another ID; please refrain from accusing me of stealing my own work.

 

John asked you once where the scars came from. Twin slashes down your back, about five inches long. Deep and faded, and stretched out with time; pale and never forgotten, despite the years that have passed since that night. He traced them with fingers first, gentle brushes that left you shivering, and then with his tongue, and that left you begging. 

 

“Car wreck,” you answered, the lie easily leaving your mouth.

 

---

 

For years and years, you could pretend, and it was easy, easier than any lie had the right to be. Car accidents were common, expected. Lies became truth if spoken often enough.

 

You never sang or played any instrument for him, so he had no reason to expect anything. 

You loved him and he loved you, and that was all that mattered. Not some half-remembered life you’d left behind with a smile and hidden tears.

 

---

 

But years and years pass. The scars stretch and fade, nearly vanishing into the smooth skin of your back. You live as Mary Vernon, and then Mary Winchester. You are lover, then wife, then mother—mother of Dean, the most beautiful baby in the world.

 

The nurses say it, and strangers, and John’s family. Only you know just how true it is, and the night after giving birth, your back aches. You curl around your son and smile at your husband and wonder just when the sky will fall around you.

 

---

 

You sing for Dean, gentle lullabies in the night. Never where John can hear, though. It hurts more than you expected, keeping this from him, but it can’t be helped.

 

The truth is too hard, too long to tell, and the lie still flows easily from your mouth. 

 

---

 

And then the second son, your Sam. Sammy. It was John’s idea to name him after the lie you invented of your father, but you agreed because of the prophet. 

 

Perhaps you love irony, or maybe it was a slur directed towards the heavens, but either way, you knew it would all be over soon.

 

---

 

You sing to Sam, just a little whisper on the night air. Dean sits beside you, hand lightly resting on Sammy’s head, staring at his little brother.

 

When you take them out shopping for groceries or to the park, people call them angels. Your smile is blinding and Dean always says thank you with a little boy grin. Sammy coos.

 

---

 

John asked you once where the scars came from. Staring at the being hovering over your Sammy, all the memories cascade in a torrent through your mind. 

 

His eyes glower at you through the darkness, hellfire dancing in their depths.

 

You are not afraid. He cannot touch Sammy or Dean, not directly; your Lord’s promise guarantees that. 

 

You still follow him? he sneers in your head. After he abandoned you?

 

“Yes,” you answer aloud, at peace.

 

You are a fool. He steps closer and the flames die down, leaving only a gentle green.

 

“Perhaps.” You don’t shudder or flinch back as he touches your face, but you know what is to come, so you scream.

 

There are no other options, and this is the price for the happiness you’ve received.

 

First there is pain, then only a burn.

 

---

 

Mayhap, you were foolish to fall with the rest, but when your Lord cut off your wings so you could playact a human, you’d never been so happy.

 

John loved you for you, not your gifts. After an eternity, finally you were free. And now your sons, too, can taste the sweetness that comes with choice.

 

---

 

He cannot touch them. Your Lord swore to you that, and despite what others say, you know Lucifer always keeps his promises.

 

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[tigriswolf]

's'alright.