Wanted Dead or Alive | 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

14 - SALVATION

SEASON 1, EPISODE 21

Blood. Glistening, shimmering, crimson blood was spewing out of the man's neck, and for once, Mara wasn't the reason the warm liquid was trickling down his chest.

Meg had done it. She'd raised a knife high in the air, its blade short and sharp, and had sliced the man's throat without a second thought. He hadn't even been able to scream - the murder had left no time for negotiations and futile cries for mercy. After all, Meg was too busy negotiating with John Winchester. She couldn't afford to take time away from John to discuss deals with anyone else.

At least, that's what Mara told herself as the man's limp body collapsed on the rickety, wooden chair he was tied to. It made her feel less guilty about her current situation. The man - his corpse already vacant of a soul - was one of John Winchester's friends. After digging around in the recesses of Mara's mind(courtesy of a certain red ring), Meg had discovered a photographic memory that the reaper hadn't even remembered: Sam's phone number.

After much thought, Mara realized that the death of John's friend was ultimately her fault. Meg had gotten Sam's number from her memories. She was the one who'd thought it was a good idea, many months ago, to search through Kat's phone for John's contact information. She was the one who'd seen Sam's number by accident. It was her subconscious that had stored that bit of information in the deepest crevice of Mara's memory. She was lucky Meg hadn't found her recollections of the time spent with the Winchesters, but she supposed that wasn't what Meg had been looking for. And now, as Meg was threatening John Winchester over the phone through Sam's number, she couldn't help but feel responsible for the death of John's friend.

"Can you hear that? That's the sound of your friend dying," Meg's voice came out in a purr as she brought her phone up to her ear. She'd been holding it by the lips of John's friend, a guarantee that John would hear his friend's desperate gasps for air. Mara scowled. She wished she'd never memorized Sam's number. She wished that Sam had never given his phone to John in the first place, that he had pretended he didn't know where his father was. And she wished, more than anything, that she could be free of Meg's control so she'd never have to think of her again.

Meg rested her hand on the chair John's friend sat on, and her tone grew harsh as she continued with her torment, saying, "Now let's try this again. We know you have the gun, John. Word travels fast. So, as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like - it has casualties."

'War,' Mara thought with a sardonic scoff. 'Of course. That's exactly what this is.'

It was the war that destroyed Mara's life, as all warfare tends to. She was being held hostage in the chaotic battle between demonkind and humanity, and being forced to work as a spy for the wrong side. And, as with most wars, it could simply end if one side would offer their pride as a sacrifice. But both combatants had a chip on their shoulder that was too poisonous to wash away, and neither Azazel or John would admit defeat. They would rather hold their pride close to their heart than save the people their war was hurting.