Wednesday, November 19, 2008


Human Monster
By Ebbtide

Summary: Dean helps a woman in need. Not all monsters are of the supernatural variety.

Yells sound from the other side of the hotel wall. There is a sound of a fight, something gets smashed. Dean rolls over in his sleep, bone-weary from the last week of Hunting. He buries his head under the pillow and tries to get his tired muscles relaxed so he can sleep. It has been days since his last hotel room and he does not want to waste the money. It is getting harder to come by these days.

A sharp scream is cut off almost as soon as it starts. There is a louder crash on the other side of the thick barrier. Muffled voices raise in anger and pain. Dean Winchester looks over at his young brother Sam and is not surprised to find that the dark haired man is still asleep. It has been a very hard few days for Sam Winchester especially. With a sigh, Dean pushes himself up.

There would be no more sleep for him. Not for a while.

He hears the door to the room next to theirs open and then slam closed. Dean feels relieved that whatever the occupants had been fighting over - the fight was, in fact, over. He sighs again and runs a hand through his short blond hair. Why can life never be simple. Even the act of sleeping has become too complicated to achieve.

He eyes the door with discontent and longing. The night air in southern California is a balm to his ravaged skin, but he feels too tired to move. With a low, weary groan the Hunter pushes to his feet and slips a jacket over his bare shoulders. Outside he feels the warmth soak into his body and a smile forms across his face. To stay there and never leave is impossible, but so fondly dreamed of. Dean let his head fall forward, eyes closed in tired distress.

He knows that the woman has been watching him ever since he exited his room. It was for this very meeting that he has forced his exhausted body to walk into the cement parking lot. He hears her sniffle for a moment and knows that tears are likely hidden by the shadowy veil of night.

“You should leave him.” Dean says softly, his voice carrying in the stillness.

The woman freezes in fear and surprise. He hears her breathing come in quick gasps. She scared of him, this attention that he has given her, and rightfully so if the earlier argument is any kind of meter for him to judge her life by. Men could be such monsters, Dean thinks with sadness.

“I promise, I won’t hurt you.” He adds without looking up or opening his eyes. He is content to stay unmoving - his aching back and ribs begs for just such inaction. It is his mind that will not let him go back to rest. It is his beating heart that refuses to leave this woman without options or encouragement.

A warm breeze washes over him and for a brief moment he forgets about everything. The woman, his brother and the life that he never chose. All of his worries fades for a single moment in the wake of feeling so peaceful. He feels the urge to cry when the moment ends.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The woman begins to deny, but Dean has heard this story many times and he quickly cuts her off with a firm, but calm statement.

“He hurts you. We both know it and now is a chance for you to do something about it.”

“I fell.” She begins with a motion that he hears, but does not see. He assumes that she is covering up whatever new injury her man has given her as a threat for the future. Dean has seen this all so many times in the past.

Women used and abused by human monsters. Not all evil crawls in the night on the words of a devil tongue. Dean turns to face the woman for the first time, his hazel eyes boring into her frightened blue gaze. He sees the fear in them, the servitude she has forced upon herself. He knows better than to take that step in her direction that comfort begs to walk. He remains unmoving and just looks into her battered soul.

“You’re stronger than he is - you’re stronger than you think.” He assures softly.

The woman wipes at her eyes, smearing a line of mascara down her cheek. Dean wants to wipe those tears away, erase her pain so stark in the open night air. He practically feels her anxiety pouring off in waves of emotion. It is then that he sees her hands are shaking. She hides it well. Practice is hope’s enemy.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She says in a choked voice that wavers dangerously even as she tries to exude a poise she does not own. “I’m fine. He‘s just had a bad day. It‘s nothing, don‘t bother yourself over it.” She laughs a little, dead laugh.

Dean shakes his head. “We both know better than that. He owns you.”

It is a truth that is read so easily on her open face. She is not the closed book that she likes to imagine. Dean has seen this so many times before. Every one of them is his mother. Broken inside, wanting something more. Needing to believe in something better and right. He sees Mary Winchester’s green eyes begging for a new life.

Dean blinks. His tired mind has blurred together his mother’s features with those of this stranger. He turns away again and looks out at the horizon of city lights. The woman is not his responsibility, but still he feels for her in a way that is so very personal.

“I can help you get out of town.” He offers with an invisible sigh. “He won’t find you, I promise.”

She wants so badly to take him up on that offer, but there are so many doubts holding her back. She bites her lip, tears spilling down her chin.

“How can you be sure?”

He glances at her sideways, his eyes hold firm resolve. “You aren’t the first one I’ve helped. Trust me and I will get you somewhere safe.”

She takes a small step forward, hugs herself tight and then steps backward. “I-I don’t know.”

“You can trust me….”


The blinks come more rapidly as he tries to keep his tired mind in line. It hurts him to see her pain so real. She has his mother’s name.

“Mary Wilson.” She supplies weakly. “If you are sure…then.” Her eyebrows draw together. “All of my stuff is in the room.”

“I have money. We can get you new stuff.” Dean supplies quickly. He knows the first few minutes are the hardest, but if he can get her to see the possibility of life without her slavery to an abusive man then she will make it. “Come one. We can leave right now.”

His eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep, but the night hides this fact from the woman. To her, Dean Winchester is a knight riding in with an impossible gift: freedom.

“Yes.” She whispers.

Dean smiles a little. “Good. I need to pack quickly and then we’ll be gone.”

As he passes her on his way back into his hotel room, Dean pauses and gently puts a hand on her shoulder. The expected flinch does not make him back away. He is now close enough for her to see the sincerity in his expression.

“Don’t worry, Mary Wilson, you’re safe now.”


Mary sits in the back seat of the Impala surrounded by the earthly possessions of the Winchester boys. She figures them for a couple on vacation, but something about this theory does not quite fit. She knows theirs is a story she will never hear.

A second man, Sam, sleeps in the passenger seat - soft snores confess his tiredness. She feels guilt over the fact that she has caused these men so much trouble, but as the miles fall behind them she also feels hope-renewed spring up inside the well of her soul. She looks out the side window with new eyes. No drunken boyfriend to hold her back or force the dreams from her spirit. She is a free woman.

“Thank you.” She says aloud for the tenth time in as many minutes. The gratitude will never be expressed fully in words. “You saved me.”

She sees Dean glance back at her in the rearview mirror. He smiles a tiny, half-smile that speaks of a weariness no one should have to shoulder. “It was your choice to leave. You saved you - I‘m just a glorified exit-driver.”

He winks in jest and she laughs softly, freely. With no boundaries to constrict her any longer, Mary Wilson looks ahead to a new life and a new purpose.



TLC's said...

Good Job. Very interesting and of course it hits a cord with me with domestic violence. Good For her to decided to get away! PLease make each posting a different color. That way when scanning to see how long it is I can tell right away and NOT need to try and look for the end. Thanks, just a suggestion. PS. Good Luck on your interview. I'm behind you what ever you decide. I'll talk to her too IF you need me to.

Ebbtide said...

YEAH! YOU BE AWESOME. ;D. Thanks. :D!!