A Handful of Earth
Title: A Handful of Earth
Author: seerargent
Rating: Gen, PG
Word Count: ~2,000
Disclaimer: The characters are sadly not mine. I’m just sticking pins into Winchester dolls for the purposes of general angst. Sorry about the holes!
A/N: Written for spn_halloween.
Created without a prompt - be very afraid.
Thanks to msscullyred for the down to the wire beta above and beyond the call of friendship.
Time Frame: Pre Series; Season 1 - Season 2, ep. 1 (Spoiler).
Characters: Missouri, Momma Mosley; John, Dean, and Sam.
Pairings: None.
Summary: Missouri learns to listen to her Momma. It takes a while. Meanwhile Dean and Sam celebrate their first (and last) “normal” Halloween together.
“Graveyard dirt; ain’t nothing sweeter.”
“Momma! That’s disgusting.”
“Don’t you pull that face at me Missouri Ann. I’m a telling you what my mother told me at your age. So sit up straight, hush your mouth, and listen.”
“Yes, Momma.”
“Nothing sweeter, and nothing to beat it when it comes to conjurin’. You got an evil person you need to kill or control, first you got to get yourself some graveyard dirt.”
~~~
Missouri looked down at her mother’s grave, remembering all the stories passed down from mother to daughter. All the truths.
She’d spent half her life trying to deny her heritage. Hiding what her mother had called “the knowing”. Trying to be normal, fitting in with other people. Covering all those small slips when she said something a little … different that she shouldn’t have known. Luckily most people only ever wanted to see, and hear what they expected to. Very few ever really looked or listened. She’d given up wondering why as a teenager, and just been grateful for the mercy of it.
~~~
The first time was when she was five. Jumping rope with everyone, and laughing as she sang the count. She’d been changing places with her best friend when it happened. All she’d done was reach out to take the end of the rope, and then she saw Esther covered in blood. She’d kept screaming even after her mother came running.
Esther didn’t die that day, or the next week. But several months later she fell crossing the road. She never got up again. Missouri still saw her sometimes.
~~~
The next time was when her father left. He tugged her plaits, and held her tight as usual. She didn’t see anything that time. She just knew he was leaving them, and not coming back. All she could do was feel. Him. Wanting to stay, needing to go. Guilt. Twisting inside him until he knew he’d go crazy. She tried to hold onto him, crying that she was sorry, that she’d be good. It didn’t help. She was seven.
Most of her childhood was spent with her mother after that. Hearing the tales. Stories, about her grandmother and her family. How some of them “knew” things; could read the lines in someone’s hand, or lay the cards down right. Her momma said that she’d always wished she could too. Missouri knew even then that her mother was lying.
~~~
“Why do I feel … see … things, Momma?”
Her mother laughed at her question, shaking her head as she said, “Child, the world is telling us things every day. A few bits here, a few pieces there. Some days she’ll be whispering, others she’ll be screaming. There are signs all over God’s creation. People, they be mostly deaf ‘n blind to the warnings.”
“But why me?”
“You are just a little closer to the world’s edge, is all. Your grandmother used to say that most of the time she’d feel the commonplace things. People’s small secrets. But every now and then she’d see the extraordinary.”
“She didn’t like that so much. Did she Momma?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Because the big things aren’t always good are they?”
Missouri’s mother held her close. “No, honey. Life isn’t fair. It’s about the good … and the … bad, and the people in between. All you can do is see the world through God’s tears.”
~~~
Missouri grew up absorbing everything her mother told her. She soaked up the hoodoo, the herbs, the cards; all her mother would teach. She often felt she lived in two worlds. Her family’s past, and the present. Every now and then she lived in three.
The next time she saw something close to home she tried to warn her mother.
“Let it be child,” her mother said. “Some battles are meant to be fought, but this one isn’t.”
Her mother died the day she started high school. After that Missouri changed. She started covering the past. Burying it deeper every time she refused to acknowledge what she knew about people.
~~~
Stepping over the low wall, Missouri let her left hand trail over the markers at either end of the grave as she walked around it.
“You were right, Momma. No matter what you see or feel; there are things you can change, things that you shouldn’t, and some that you can’t.”
“I lost you. And now I’ve lost my husband and … our … daughter. I thought I could change what I saw. But I only made it worse. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay here. Everywhere I go I see the people I’ve lost.”
“Don’t you be worrying about me though. I’ve been talking to someone who listens to people like you did. He told me about a place in Kansas. Sounds like I could make a fresh start there. He believes I could make a difference. I look at him and I know he’s right. I need to do this.”
~~~
The next time was two years later. It was Hallowe’en. She’d spent the day cooking; preparing treats for the incoming hordes. The first year it had hurt too much seeing the children running from house to house, when her own child was gone. But she felt confident that this year was going to be different. When the true All Hallows’ came in two days, she knew could finally set her ghosts free.
When she saw the next child skipping towards her house she smiled. It was good to see that much exuberance, especially from someone wearing such a remarkable hat. “Who are you?” she asked bending down towards the boy.
He looked up at her, green eyes twinkling. “I’m Dean. I’m four. I’m a hero. That’s my Dad,” he said pointing proudly towards the man standing nearby cradling an infant.
Missouri glanced upwards. Even in the shadow of the baby’s amazing fire engine red hat, she could tell they had the same changeable eyes. “I can see that,” she said softly.
“And that’s my brother Sammy, he’s Sam I Am.”
“Sam I Am?” she laughed.
“From the book!” he grinned, jiggling on the path with excitement.
“I know … my daughter loved that book too.” Missouri couldn’t help but grin back at him. He was so full of life.
“Sammy’s a half.”
“A half?”
“He’s half one in two days. My mom says we’re gonna have cake. But it’s a surprise, Sammy doesn’t know,” he whispered.
He tilted his head to one side, the hat slipping down over his eyes. “Trick or treat?”
“Well, I can see you already have a lot of candy, but I’d rather not get squirted with that water pistol you’ve got behind your back,” Missouri replied, giggling at the look on his face as he pushed the hat back over his ears.
“Huh,” he said. “Mom said that too. Do you know my mom?”
“No, honey, I’m just a good guesser.”
“Treat then?” he smirked.
“Okay, treats then.” Missouri placed some Louisiana brown sugar cookies and Ginger drops into the bag he held out.
“And some for my Sammy?” he asked pouting those lips which were going to get him in and out of all manner of trouble when he got older.
“Some for your Sam too,” she laughed again, adding some more candy to his haul.
“Dean Winchester! Don’t you think you’ve got enough for both you and Sammy?”
“Mom, you’re late.” Dean bounced up to his mother. “Look what we got.”
“Hi, I’m Mary. I’m sorry,” the woman apologised as her son swung himself dizzily around her legs. “Dean’s energy level is a little … high.”
“He is rather - incandescent,” Missouri said, still a little dazzled by the strength of the child’s spirit. She reached out to shake the younger woman’s hand. “I’m Missouri, it’s good to …meet you,” she finished in a panicked rush. Oh my God! “Good to meet all of you.”
“Come on Mom, we’ve got two more streets to do. You promised!” Dean said as he grabbed his mother’s hand and started pulling her back to join the rest of the family.
“Say thank you, Dean,” Mary admonished him, laughing as she reached her husband and took Sammy from him.
“Thanks. Happy Halloween!” Dean yelled as his father swept him up onto his shoulders.
Missouri stood rigid, looking after them in shock. No, she couldn’t have felt that. All that darkness. She’d never sensed anything like that, ever. Don’t let me feel … this. “Happy Hallowe’en” she murmured.
~~~
It was only a week later that the knock came. She walked slowly to the door. There was no way she going to be strong enough for this.
He stood on her porch. It was nothing like the last time. Fast, she thought. He’d always move fast. He was going to need that and more before the end.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ring first. I didn’t know what to say. My name is …”
“Come in John,” she said quietly. “We can talk inside.”
John slumped back on her couch. “I know I’m going crazy. Nothing makes any sense. I keep hearing her, seeing Mary …”
Hearing her scream. Running. Nothing. Then, blood. Falling. Falling on Sammy.
“I have to know the truth. I need to know what happened to her.”
Falling backwards. Mary! Just Mary, above him. Bleeding. Dying. Blazing.
“I’m going to find out who ... I will find out what killed my wife.”
Missouri leant towards him. “You know I’ll do anything I can, John. But something like this. We might never find out why. And even if we did, it wouldn’t bring her back.”
“No … but I’ll damn well make sure that whatever did this burns in its own fires for eternity. Or I’ll die trying.”
Once a soldier, sometimes a lover, always a warrior. Forever.
Missouri took a breath, “It’s going to be a long road, John. We’d better get started.”
~~~
Twenty-two years later, a few days after another Hallowe’en, Missouri saw the fire front coming again and she didn’t close her eyes.
She reached out to the phone next to her bed dialling the number from memory. “John, it’s Missouri. I’m sorry. It’s happened again. And … I saw your boys. It’s not over.”
~~~
Another, longer year. Another Hallowe’en went by. But this time it was different. An unexpected phone call forced her to mark another dark anniversary down.
Her Momma, hell, everybody’s momma said bad things came in threes. Life was never that simple. Missouri didn’t know yet what it all meant. But she could tell that the odds had changed, and not necessarily for the better.
She realised it was finally the right moment for her to go back home for one last visit. She had the ghosts of two families to worry about now.
~~~
Missouri placed flowers against her mother’s marker, “Hello Momma. It’s been a while. But we both knew I’d be back.”
She knelt down and laid her hands lovingly over her mother’s resting place. “I’m sorry it took so long,” she murmured. “But I’ve had another family to look out for.” She gently scooped up some dirt and placed it in the cloth bag she had made all those years ago for just this moment. I still need you Momma.
It had been a comfort to Missouri to block out those warnings for so long. But now she knew that she’d only been fooling herself. Her mother had been right. Ain’t no use hiding your head under the bed when trouble comes a callin’. If a storm was blowing in, you’d better pay attention; keep an eye on the sky, listen to the wind, and get to shelter quick.
*~~~*
Author: seerargent
Rating: Gen, PG
Word Count: ~2,000
Disclaimer: The characters are sadly not mine. I’m just sticking pins into Winchester dolls for the purposes of general angst. Sorry about the holes!
A/N: Written for spn_halloween.
Created without a prompt - be very afraid.
Thanks to msscullyred for the down to the wire beta above and beyond the call of friendship.
Time Frame: Pre Series; Season 1 - Season 2, ep. 1 (Spoiler).
Characters: Missouri, Momma Mosley; John, Dean, and Sam.
Pairings: None.
Summary: Missouri learns to listen to her Momma. It takes a while. Meanwhile Dean and Sam celebrate their first (and last) “normal” Halloween together.
“Graveyard dirt; ain’t nothing sweeter.”
“Momma! That’s disgusting.”
“Don’t you pull that face at me Missouri Ann. I’m a telling you what my mother told me at your age. So sit up straight, hush your mouth, and listen.”
“Yes, Momma.”
“Nothing sweeter, and nothing to beat it when it comes to conjurin’. You got an evil person you need to kill or control, first you got to get yourself some graveyard dirt.”
~~~
Missouri looked down at her mother’s grave, remembering all the stories passed down from mother to daughter. All the truths.
She’d spent half her life trying to deny her heritage. Hiding what her mother had called “the knowing”. Trying to be normal, fitting in with other people. Covering all those small slips when she said something a little … different that she shouldn’t have known. Luckily most people only ever wanted to see, and hear what they expected to. Very few ever really looked or listened. She’d given up wondering why as a teenager, and just been grateful for the mercy of it.
~~~
The first time was when she was five. Jumping rope with everyone, and laughing as she sang the count. She’d been changing places with her best friend when it happened. All she’d done was reach out to take the end of the rope, and then she saw Esther covered in blood. She’d kept screaming even after her mother came running.
Esther didn’t die that day, or the next week. But several months later she fell crossing the road. She never got up again. Missouri still saw her sometimes.
~~~
The next time was when her father left. He tugged her plaits, and held her tight as usual. She didn’t see anything that time. She just knew he was leaving them, and not coming back. All she could do was feel. Him. Wanting to stay, needing to go. Guilt. Twisting inside him until he knew he’d go crazy. She tried to hold onto him, crying that she was sorry, that she’d be good. It didn’t help. She was seven.
Most of her childhood was spent with her mother after that. Hearing the tales. Stories, about her grandmother and her family. How some of them “knew” things; could read the lines in someone’s hand, or lay the cards down right. Her momma said that she’d always wished she could too. Missouri knew even then that her mother was lying.
~~~
“Why do I feel … see … things, Momma?”
Her mother laughed at her question, shaking her head as she said, “Child, the world is telling us things every day. A few bits here, a few pieces there. Some days she’ll be whispering, others she’ll be screaming. There are signs all over God’s creation. People, they be mostly deaf ‘n blind to the warnings.”
“But why me?”
“You are just a little closer to the world’s edge, is all. Your grandmother used to say that most of the time she’d feel the commonplace things. People’s small secrets. But every now and then she’d see the extraordinary.”
“She didn’t like that so much. Did she Momma?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Because the big things aren’t always good are they?”
Missouri’s mother held her close. “No, honey. Life isn’t fair. It’s about the good … and the … bad, and the people in between. All you can do is see the world through God’s tears.”
~~~
Missouri grew up absorbing everything her mother told her. She soaked up the hoodoo, the herbs, the cards; all her mother would teach. She often felt she lived in two worlds. Her family’s past, and the present. Every now and then she lived in three.
The next time she saw something close to home she tried to warn her mother.
“Let it be child,” her mother said. “Some battles are meant to be fought, but this one isn’t.”
Her mother died the day she started high school. After that Missouri changed. She started covering the past. Burying it deeper every time she refused to acknowledge what she knew about people.
~~~
Stepping over the low wall, Missouri let her left hand trail over the markers at either end of the grave as she walked around it.
“You were right, Momma. No matter what you see or feel; there are things you can change, things that you shouldn’t, and some that you can’t.”
“I lost you. And now I’ve lost my husband and … our … daughter. I thought I could change what I saw. But I only made it worse. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay here. Everywhere I go I see the people I’ve lost.”
“Don’t you be worrying about me though. I’ve been talking to someone who listens to people like you did. He told me about a place in Kansas. Sounds like I could make a fresh start there. He believes I could make a difference. I look at him and I know he’s right. I need to do this.”
~~~
The next time was two years later. It was Hallowe’en. She’d spent the day cooking; preparing treats for the incoming hordes. The first year it had hurt too much seeing the children running from house to house, when her own child was gone. But she felt confident that this year was going to be different. When the true All Hallows’ came in two days, she knew could finally set her ghosts free.
When she saw the next child skipping towards her house she smiled. It was good to see that much exuberance, especially from someone wearing such a remarkable hat. “Who are you?” she asked bending down towards the boy.
He looked up at her, green eyes twinkling. “I’m Dean. I’m four. I’m a hero. That’s my Dad,” he said pointing proudly towards the man standing nearby cradling an infant.
Missouri glanced upwards. Even in the shadow of the baby’s amazing fire engine red hat, she could tell they had the same changeable eyes. “I can see that,” she said softly.
“And that’s my brother Sammy, he’s Sam I Am.”
“Sam I Am?” she laughed.
“From the book!” he grinned, jiggling on the path with excitement.
“I know … my daughter loved that book too.” Missouri couldn’t help but grin back at him. He was so full of life.
“Sammy’s a half.”
“A half?”
“He’s half one in two days. My mom says we’re gonna have cake. But it’s a surprise, Sammy doesn’t know,” he whispered.
He tilted his head to one side, the hat slipping down over his eyes. “Trick or treat?”
“Well, I can see you already have a lot of candy, but I’d rather not get squirted with that water pistol you’ve got behind your back,” Missouri replied, giggling at the look on his face as he pushed the hat back over his ears.
“Huh,” he said. “Mom said that too. Do you know my mom?”
“No, honey, I’m just a good guesser.”
“Treat then?” he smirked.
“Okay, treats then.” Missouri placed some Louisiana brown sugar cookies and Ginger drops into the bag he held out.
“And some for my Sammy?” he asked pouting those lips which were going to get him in and out of all manner of trouble when he got older.
“Some for your Sam too,” she laughed again, adding some more candy to his haul.
“Dean Winchester! Don’t you think you’ve got enough for both you and Sammy?”
“Mom, you’re late.” Dean bounced up to his mother. “Look what we got.”
“Hi, I’m Mary. I’m sorry,” the woman apologised as her son swung himself dizzily around her legs. “Dean’s energy level is a little … high.”
“He is rather - incandescent,” Missouri said, still a little dazzled by the strength of the child’s spirit. She reached out to shake the younger woman’s hand. “I’m Missouri, it’s good to …meet you,” she finished in a panicked rush. Oh my God! “Good to meet all of you.”
“Come on Mom, we’ve got two more streets to do. You promised!” Dean said as he grabbed his mother’s hand and started pulling her back to join the rest of the family.
“Say thank you, Dean,” Mary admonished him, laughing as she reached her husband and took Sammy from him.
“Thanks. Happy Halloween!” Dean yelled as his father swept him up onto his shoulders.
Missouri stood rigid, looking after them in shock. No, she couldn’t have felt that. All that darkness. She’d never sensed anything like that, ever. Don’t let me feel … this. “Happy Hallowe’en” she murmured.
~~~
It was only a week later that the knock came. She walked slowly to the door. There was no way she going to be strong enough for this.
He stood on her porch. It was nothing like the last time. Fast, she thought. He’d always move fast. He was going to need that and more before the end.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ring first. I didn’t know what to say. My name is …”
“Come in John,” she said quietly. “We can talk inside.”
John slumped back on her couch. “I know I’m going crazy. Nothing makes any sense. I keep hearing her, seeing Mary …”
Hearing her scream. Running. Nothing. Then, blood. Falling. Falling on Sammy.
“I have to know the truth. I need to know what happened to her.”
Falling backwards. Mary! Just Mary, above him. Bleeding. Dying. Blazing.
“I’m going to find out who ... I will find out what killed my wife.”
Missouri leant towards him. “You know I’ll do anything I can, John. But something like this. We might never find out why. And even if we did, it wouldn’t bring her back.”
“No … but I’ll damn well make sure that whatever did this burns in its own fires for eternity. Or I’ll die trying.”
Once a soldier, sometimes a lover, always a warrior. Forever.
Missouri took a breath, “It’s going to be a long road, John. We’d better get started.”
~~~
Twenty-two years later, a few days after another Hallowe’en, Missouri saw the fire front coming again and she didn’t close her eyes.
She reached out to the phone next to her bed dialling the number from memory. “John, it’s Missouri. I’m sorry. It’s happened again. And … I saw your boys. It’s not over.”
~~~
Another, longer year. Another Hallowe’en went by. But this time it was different. An unexpected phone call forced her to mark another dark anniversary down.
Her Momma, hell, everybody’s momma said bad things came in threes. Life was never that simple. Missouri didn’t know yet what it all meant. But she could tell that the odds had changed, and not necessarily for the better.
She realised it was finally the right moment for her to go back home for one last visit. She had the ghosts of two families to worry about now.
~~~
Missouri placed flowers against her mother’s marker, “Hello Momma. It’s been a while. But we both knew I’d be back.”
She knelt down and laid her hands lovingly over her mother’s resting place. “I’m sorry it took so long,” she murmured. “But I’ve had another family to look out for.” She gently scooped up some dirt and placed it in the cloth bag she had made all those years ago for just this moment. I still need you Momma.
It had been a comfort to Missouri to block out those warnings for so long. But now she knew that she’d only been fooling herself. Her mother had been right. Ain’t no use hiding your head under the bed when trouble comes a callin’. If a storm was blowing in, you’d better pay attention; keep an eye on the sky, listen to the wind, and get to shelter quick.
*~~~*