Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2011-09-08 09:30 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2011-09-08 09:30 pm
Angel/Mary - take a sad song and make it better
Fandom: Angel: the Series/Supernatural
Title: take a sad song and make it better
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Angel/Mary Winchester, Lorne, Dean Winchester
Content Warning: N/A
Summary: In which Angel finds someone he doesn’t expect in his lobby.
Author’s Note: Written forsmokeandsong for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
xoverexchange prompt meme. I actually had a lot of fun writing this one.
Disclaimer: I don’t own. They belong to Joss and Kripke. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
June 12, 1972
“You need to go before my dad comes back.”
He’s standing on the outskirts of the Campbell property, lurking under a tree. All he seems to do is lurk these days, but sometimes, sometimes he can make that little bit of difference. He can save someone who deserved to be saved, stop someone who deserved to be stopped. He could do good, he just has to get out of his own past to do it.
But sometimes, using the skills that he has to his advantage doesn’t always yield the best results. Even if he fights for all the good in the world, people are still only going to see a vampire. And regardless of whether or not he has a soul—some people just aren’t going to get it.
Samuel Campbell is one of them.
Fortunately for him, Mary Campbell isn’t.
“I take it he wasn’t a fan of the makeover?” he replies softly, pushing away from the tree and moving into the street lights a bit.
“Can you think of a hunter that would be?” she says with a bit of a self-deprecating smile. “You’re a vampire, Angel.”
“I have a soul, Mary.”
“I know that,” she sighs. “But my father isn’t going to care. All he sees are fangs and demons, and he wants to take every one of them down.”
She moves closer, placing a hand on his arm, rubbing it gently. It takes all that he has not to flinch away. It’s been so long since someone has just touched him out of compassion and nothing else, and he isn’t sure what to do with it. Mary’s so close, and she’s there and perfect and human, and he wants to reach out and take, but he presses himself back. She isn’t worth hurting. Not after he just saved her.
She shifts after a moment, pushing up on her toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she sighs as she pulls away. “But I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other again, okay?”
He chuckles softly, before nodding. “Okay.”
She smiles a bit, before taking another step back. “Stay safe.”
“I will,” he nods. “You too.”
She nods, and then turns to move back into the house. He stays there, watching her as she leaves, but by the time she turns around again, he’s gone, heading off to another city, to find another opportunity to be better. It’s all he can do. But that still doesn’t still change what this little opportunity has done for him.
She trusted him.
***
June 12, 2010
Most normal people wouldn’t have heard it. Or if they had, they probably would have ignored it. It’s the softest sound, the faint sound like a flutter of wings, and it is coming from the middle of his lobby.
LA went to Hell and came back again, and in the in-between, Angel had lost more people than he cared to count, but he still came back to the Hyperion anyway. It’s much emptier than it used to be, but Angel still comes back here because it feels like home. He can remember the sounds of having people live there, and it makes him feel less alone. Less like a failure for not being able to protect them.
But it’s the out of place sound of the wings that draws him to the lobby, and what he finds there isn’t want he expected. There, in the middle of the lobby, is a tall man in a trenchcoat, and a blond woman in a white nightgown. She is unconscious, lying on her side on the ground, and is older than the last time he saw her, but there’s no way he couldn’t recognize her.
“Mary.”
The man in the trenchcoat glances back at him, before placing a hand on her shoulder gently. “I was told she would be safe here.”
Angel nods, watching him warily but moving closer. “She will be.”
There’s a nod and he’s gone, in the blink of an eye, but she remains. It’s been forty years since he’s seen her, and he heard somewhere through the grapevine that she had died, some time ago, but she’s here, and as far as he can tell she’s human. That has to mean something.
He moves to crouch next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder gently, and as he does, she stirs, rolling onto her back a little more, and blinking as her eyes open wide to look at him. “Angel?”
“Hi,” he says with a soft smile, before starting to get her into a sitting position. “It’s been a while.”
She nods slowly, before looking up at him. “How did I get here?”
“Guy in a trenchcoat. I didn’t get his name.”
“Must have been—” Her voice trails off before she answers, before turning and gripping his shirt tightly. “The year. What year is it?”
“2010,” he says softly. “Should I ask what year you think it is?”
She closes her eyes, shaking her head for a moment before looking up at him. “Doesn’t matter. I need your help.”
***
Two days of research later, and Angel has most of the information. Mary Winchester, formerly Mary Campbell, died in 1983 on her six month old son’s bedroom ceiling. Twenty two years later, she was followed by her husband, and soon after that, her sons. Finding out that her family has been practically decimated isn’t an easy thing for any person to face, and it’s a few days before Angel actually sees Mary again. She’ll eat when prompted, but grief is a powerful force, and not one that should be taken lightly. Angel knows that better than anyone.
By the end of the week, she’s back in the lobby again, demanding answers, and not leaving until he promises to help her get them. Angel doesn’t have his link to the powers these days—doesn’t have much in the way of getting answers, but he knows someone who might, even if that person isn’t very happy with him at the moment.
It takes him a month or so to track down Lorne, another week to get them there, and by the time they arrive at Lorne’s front door, it’s all too clear that he knew they were coming. And as Angel predicted, he’s not happy.
“I thought I told you not to find me.”
“This isn’t for me,” Angel replies, before gesturing to the blond woman standing behind him. “It’s for her.”
Lorne doesn’t seem convinced at first. “Back to helping the helpless, are we?”
“Something like that,” he replies softly. “Please. All I need you to do is read her.”
The demon purses his lips slightly, before pulling open the door and letting them inside. Mary follows Angel cautiously, waiting until Lorne is a few paces ahead of them before asking. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“He’s a friend. Trust me. All you have to do is sing.”
“Sing?” Her eyes widened. “You could have mentioned that before we got here.”
He chuckles. “Lorne has heard me shred everything sacred. I think everything else is pretty much a step up.”
She snorts at that, but he notices that something in her relaxes a bit. This is different than most of her dealings with demons. If all she has to do is sing, it’s almost easy. They make their way into the empty club, and Lorne gestures for her to go up on the stage and choose a song. It doesn’t take long for her to pick, and the two of them settle at a table in the back and wait as she starts to sing.
Hey Jude, don’t be afraid
Take a sad song, and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better
“Not bad,” Lorne says quietly, drumming his fingers lightly against the rhythm on the table.
“Her singing, or her future?”
Lorne flashes him a look with an eyebrow raise. “She’s a Winchester. ‘Not bad’ isn’t really something that goes along with their futures.”
Angel nods slowly, and the two of them fall into silence for a moment, just letting her sing and let the sound wash over them, trying not to think about anything else.
And anytime you feel the pain
Hey Jude, refrain
Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.
And well, you know that it’s a fool
Who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder
Na na na na, na na na na
Just before she goes into the last verse, Lorne turns, scribbling a note down on a napkin, before passing it over to Angel. “A few weeks ago, the Furies asked me for my help in setting up a sanctuary spell at a house in Indiana. The Powers figured they owed the guy who lived there a favor. Might be someone she wants to see.”
Angel takes the napkin, glancing at the address, before tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Thanks, Lorne.”
“Be good to her, Angel,” he says softly as he gets up and adjusts his suit. “She’s had enough pain in her life.”
Angel watches him as he goes, before turning his eyes back to the woman singing on stage again. “I will.”
***
It takes them three days to get to Indiana. Only being able to drive at night has its limits. He doesn’t tell her where they’re going, just that they’re going somewhere, and it’s important. She doesn’t question it—it’s not like she has anywhere else to go—and when they arrive at the Braedans’ front door, he knows that she’s wary. She doesn’t know what to do.
“It’s okay,” he says, turning his back to the wall and making sure that she is the only one on seen on the doorstep. “Just knock.”
She swallows, takes a breath, and raises her hand to knock. There’s a moment before there’s movement in the house, and when the door opens, there’s a long, long silence. “Dean?” she asks softly, hesitantly, and there’s a long silence before the voice on the other side responds.
“Mom?”
Title: take a sad song and make it better
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: PG-13
Characters: Angel/Mary Winchester, Lorne, Dean Winchester
Content Warning: N/A
Summary: In which Angel finds someone he doesn’t expect in his lobby.
Author’s Note: Written for
smokeandsong for the xoverexchange prompt meme. I actually had a lot of fun writing this one.Disclaimer: I don’t own. They belong to Joss and Kripke. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
June 12, 1972
“You need to go before my dad comes back.”
He’s standing on the outskirts of the Campbell property, lurking under a tree. All he seems to do is lurk these days, but sometimes, sometimes he can make that little bit of difference. He can save someone who deserved to be saved, stop someone who deserved to be stopped. He could do good, he just has to get out of his own past to do it.
But sometimes, using the skills that he has to his advantage doesn’t always yield the best results. Even if he fights for all the good in the world, people are still only going to see a vampire. And regardless of whether or not he has a soul—some people just aren’t going to get it.
Samuel Campbell is one of them.
Fortunately for him, Mary Campbell isn’t.
“I take it he wasn’t a fan of the makeover?” he replies softly, pushing away from the tree and moving into the street lights a bit.
“Can you think of a hunter that would be?” she says with a bit of a self-deprecating smile. “You’re a vampire, Angel.”
“I have a soul, Mary.”
“I know that,” she sighs. “But my father isn’t going to care. All he sees are fangs and demons, and he wants to take every one of them down.”
She moves closer, placing a hand on his arm, rubbing it gently. It takes all that he has not to flinch away. It’s been so long since someone has just touched him out of compassion and nothing else, and he isn’t sure what to do with it. Mary’s so close, and she’s there and perfect and human, and he wants to reach out and take, but he presses himself back. She isn’t worth hurting. Not after he just saved her.
She shifts after a moment, pushing up on her toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she sighs as she pulls away. “But I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other again, okay?”
He chuckles softly, before nodding. “Okay.”
She smiles a bit, before taking another step back. “Stay safe.”
“I will,” he nods. “You too.”
She nods, and then turns to move back into the house. He stays there, watching her as she leaves, but by the time she turns around again, he’s gone, heading off to another city, to find another opportunity to be better. It’s all he can do. But that still doesn’t still change what this little opportunity has done for him.
She trusted him.
***
June 12, 2010
Most normal people wouldn’t have heard it. Or if they had, they probably would have ignored it. It’s the softest sound, the faint sound like a flutter of wings, and it is coming from the middle of his lobby.
LA went to Hell and came back again, and in the in-between, Angel had lost more people than he cared to count, but he still came back to the Hyperion anyway. It’s much emptier than it used to be, but Angel still comes back here because it feels like home. He can remember the sounds of having people live there, and it makes him feel less alone. Less like a failure for not being able to protect them.
But it’s the out of place sound of the wings that draws him to the lobby, and what he finds there isn’t want he expected. There, in the middle of the lobby, is a tall man in a trenchcoat, and a blond woman in a white nightgown. She is unconscious, lying on her side on the ground, and is older than the last time he saw her, but there’s no way he couldn’t recognize her.
“Mary.”
The man in the trenchcoat glances back at him, before placing a hand on her shoulder gently. “I was told she would be safe here.”
Angel nods, watching him warily but moving closer. “She will be.”
There’s a nod and he’s gone, in the blink of an eye, but she remains. It’s been forty years since he’s seen her, and he heard somewhere through the grapevine that she had died, some time ago, but she’s here, and as far as he can tell she’s human. That has to mean something.
He moves to crouch next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder gently, and as he does, she stirs, rolling onto her back a little more, and blinking as her eyes open wide to look at him. “Angel?”
“Hi,” he says with a soft smile, before starting to get her into a sitting position. “It’s been a while.”
She nods slowly, before looking up at him. “How did I get here?”
“Guy in a trenchcoat. I didn’t get his name.”
“Must have been—” Her voice trails off before she answers, before turning and gripping his shirt tightly. “The year. What year is it?”
“2010,” he says softly. “Should I ask what year you think it is?”
She closes her eyes, shaking her head for a moment before looking up at him. “Doesn’t matter. I need your help.”
***
Two days of research later, and Angel has most of the information. Mary Winchester, formerly Mary Campbell, died in 1983 on her six month old son’s bedroom ceiling. Twenty two years later, she was followed by her husband, and soon after that, her sons. Finding out that her family has been practically decimated isn’t an easy thing for any person to face, and it’s a few days before Angel actually sees Mary again. She’ll eat when prompted, but grief is a powerful force, and not one that should be taken lightly. Angel knows that better than anyone.
By the end of the week, she’s back in the lobby again, demanding answers, and not leaving until he promises to help her get them. Angel doesn’t have his link to the powers these days—doesn’t have much in the way of getting answers, but he knows someone who might, even if that person isn’t very happy with him at the moment.
It takes him a month or so to track down Lorne, another week to get them there, and by the time they arrive at Lorne’s front door, it’s all too clear that he knew they were coming. And as Angel predicted, he’s not happy.
“I thought I told you not to find me.”
“This isn’t for me,” Angel replies, before gesturing to the blond woman standing behind him. “It’s for her.”
Lorne doesn’t seem convinced at first. “Back to helping the helpless, are we?”
“Something like that,” he replies softly. “Please. All I need you to do is read her.”
The demon purses his lips slightly, before pulling open the door and letting them inside. Mary follows Angel cautiously, waiting until Lorne is a few paces ahead of them before asking. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“He’s a friend. Trust me. All you have to do is sing.”
“Sing?” Her eyes widened. “You could have mentioned that before we got here.”
He chuckles. “Lorne has heard me shred everything sacred. I think everything else is pretty much a step up.”
She snorts at that, but he notices that something in her relaxes a bit. This is different than most of her dealings with demons. If all she has to do is sing, it’s almost easy. They make their way into the empty club, and Lorne gestures for her to go up on the stage and choose a song. It doesn’t take long for her to pick, and the two of them settle at a table in the back and wait as she starts to sing.
Hey Jude, don’t be afraid
Take a sad song, and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better
“Not bad,” Lorne says quietly, drumming his fingers lightly against the rhythm on the table.
“Her singing, or her future?”
Lorne flashes him a look with an eyebrow raise. “She’s a Winchester. ‘Not bad’ isn’t really something that goes along with their futures.”
Angel nods slowly, and the two of them fall into silence for a moment, just letting her sing and let the sound wash over them, trying not to think about anything else.
And anytime you feel the pain
Hey Jude, refrain
Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.
And well, you know that it’s a fool
Who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder
Na na na na, na na na na
Just before she goes into the last verse, Lorne turns, scribbling a note down on a napkin, before passing it over to Angel. “A few weeks ago, the Furies asked me for my help in setting up a sanctuary spell at a house in Indiana. The Powers figured they owed the guy who lived there a favor. Might be someone she wants to see.”
Angel takes the napkin, glancing at the address, before tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Thanks, Lorne.”
“Be good to her, Angel,” he says softly as he gets up and adjusts his suit. “She’s had enough pain in her life.”
Angel watches him as he goes, before turning his eyes back to the woman singing on stage again. “I will.”
***
It takes them three days to get to Indiana. Only being able to drive at night has its limits. He doesn’t tell her where they’re going, just that they’re going somewhere, and it’s important. She doesn’t question it—it’s not like she has anywhere else to go—and when they arrive at the Braedans’ front door, he knows that she’s wary. She doesn’t know what to do.
“It’s okay,” he says, turning his back to the wall and making sure that she is the only one on seen on the doorstep. “Just knock.”
She swallows, takes a breath, and raises her hand to knock. There’s a moment before there’s movement in the house, and when the door opens, there’s a long, long silence. “Dean?” she asks softly, hesitantly, and there’s a long silence before the voice on the other side responds.
“Mom?”