Another story with Sam and Mary!
I really hope we get some more scenes of them together next season, the last two seasons had not enough of that. I really want to see their bond grow.
Not beta'd. All the mistakes are mine. (Tell me if there are any glaring mistakes, I'm really trying to get better at writing in English!)
Hope you enjoy!
Sam couldn't sleep. He was tired. Bone-weary tired. But he couldn't sleep. Even the sleeping pills that Dean had forced on him hadn't helped. And his brain didn't make it any easier. Mom. Dean. Torture. Pain. Blowtorch. Mom. His thoughts were stumbling over each other, going in circles, and they wouldn't stop. And the one thought that was screaming the loudest was mom.
His mother was back—alive. He still couldn't wrap his head around it completely.
He'd always dreamed of having a mother. Dean had been his mother in many ways, but he'd still dreamed about it. Wondered. Yearned.
And even now, he still could feel his mother's hug: her soft arms around him, her hair that tickled his cheek, the smell of her shampoo, the love that nearly had sent him into tears.
His mother had hugged him.
Sam dragged a hand down his face. This wasn't going to work. He sighed, got up and wandered out into the hallway. Dean's bedroom door stood ajar, and in the dim light, Sam could see his sleeping brother. Dean was on his stomach, one hand protectively tucked underneath himself, snoring softly.
Sam smiled fondly at the sight of his brother. Dean had to be exhausted after days of worry and frantically searching for him. And now that Sam was safe and home again, Dean could finally let his guard down and sleep.
Giving his brother a last fond look, Sam continued his way through the hallway, socks making no sound on the cold floor.
When he arrived at the kitchen, he was surprised to find the lights on.
Mom.
His heart leaped in his throat. Mary was sitting at the kitchen table, a mug in her hand. He opened his mouth to say something—but stopped. His heart leaped again, but now for whole another reason.
There were tears on his mother's cheeks. She sniffled softly, and he watched, his heart racing, as she swiped the wetness away.
He must have made a sound. Suddenly, she looked up, eyes widening when she saw him standing in the doorway.
She turned away from him, swiping at the wetness on her face.
That got him moving, and in a few steps, he was at her side.
"Hey, hey, it's alright, mom." Then he stopped; maybe she didn't want him here right now, maybe she didn't want him to say anything. What did she want? He doesn't know.
But she turned back, smiling a wobbly smile at him and patted on the empty chair beside her. "Come, sit down, Sam."
Hesitantly, he sat down beside her.
Mary sighed, "I couldn't sleep and was going through John's journal and I-I just..." trailing off, she again swiped at her cheeks and continued, "it's hard, everything that I have missed, everything that has happened since. But I'll be alright, Sam. I'll be."
Mary looked up at him, and Sam swallowed around the lump that had formed there. The pain and sadness that shone out of her eyes, her slumped shoulders, her tears; everything screamed exhaustion and grief.
Sam swallowed again and put a hand onto her arm. "It's okay, mom. It's okay. You need time. And I understand, you don't have to explain or apologize."
More tears fell. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. And Sam did the only thing he could think off; he put an arm around her shoulders.
His mom's small form fit perfectly against him.
And then they sat there, in silence.
When she started to pull away, Sam let her go. He shivered a little at the sudden loss of warmth. Sam reached across the table, grabbed a few tissues from the tissues box and gave them to his mother who was already busy with wiping her cheeks.
"Thank you," she smiled at him and took the tissues from him and continued to dry her face.
When she was done, she tossed the crumbled tissues into the bin standing a few feet away.
"You want some tea?"
Sam got pulled out of his thoughts that were wandering again.
She didn't wait for his answer and got up.
With her back to him, she asked, "also couldn't sleep?"
"Uh, no." Suddenly nervous, he stared down at his hands, suppressing the urge to fidget.
"Is everything alright?" Mary poured hot water into two mugs.
His throat closed up on him again, but he swallowed past it. "Yeah, mom, don't worry, Cas healed me completely." He smiled wryly. "There's nothing left from what happened back there."
"Sam, I'm really glad you are physically fully healed. But, are you alright?"
Oh.
All of a sudden, Mary was standing before him again, two mugs with steaming hot tea in her hands.
"Here, drink up. I've put some honey in it. It'll help you sleep."
He took one mug from her and she sat down beside him again.
They drank their tea in silence.
"I guess it's a lot to process for you both, too, all that happened the last few days."
"Yeah."
Mary put down her empty mug. And turned toward him.
"And, Sam, if you need to talk about anything, and I mean anything, I'm here for you, too. You know that, right?"
He looked at her, briefly, before looking away and he nodded, jaw working.
"Okay," Mary sighed softly. "We should go to bed, huh."
Sam heaved a sigh, too, and stood up, "yeah, let's go to bed."
They headed toward the bedrooms together. Their soft footsteps echoing through the otherwise silent hallway.
At her door, Mary turned toward him and smiled softly. "Thank you and good night, Sam."
He smiled back at her. "Good night, mom. And thank you, too."