THIS IS MY FAMILY
Silence settles over them, the radio playing in quite distraction. Sam healed of his brutal injuries curled up in the front seat pretending to be asleep with his head on Dean's jacket. Dean's fingers tap along with the music on Baby's wheel in barely contained ecstatic contentedness.
Mary is taking it all in, absorbing everything she can about her boys. She had been impressed with Dean before, but now he simply glows. Even with being back after thirty-three years she can't do for him what Sam has done in a few minutes, a few accidental touches, and fleeting glances.
Sam is still shaken to say the least, but Dean had given him assurance of life and safety with his appearance and snide remarks to the woman who had been torturing him for three days straight. Once they had a few moments Mary had watched politely as Dean's hands ran over Sam as if checking that all of him was in fact there.
"Cas."
It was one word. But the angel immediately did his friend's bidding. Two fingers pressed to Sam's sweaty forehead made the open wounds and bloodshot eyes disappear. Sam sighs and lets himself lean into Dean a little more for a millisecond before straightening and slipping socks and boots onto his healed feet.
Now Baby holds them all safe within her metal arms, all tension bleeding from Sam as soon as the doors close out the world. Mary doesn't understand the necessity of Tuesday's Gone but Dean plays the song like the world depends upon it. With that lulling tune in the air, Sam is out for the count before Mary can take a good look at him.
Dean looks back at her with a smile, she's sure is accompanied by grateful tears. She watches as his hand travels across the back of the car's seat where her hand rests just above Sam's back. He gives it a reassuring squeeze.
"He's gonna need a minute Mom."
She smiles. So thankful for her son, she knows 'a minute' is just Dean's way of wording that Sam might take a while to deal. But Sam can have all the time he needs, she's not going anywhere. Sam never knew her, never knew what it was like to have a mother. She was going to rock his world.
Dean's eyes fall every few minutes on his slumbering sibling, his fingers lowering the music to a mere comforting hum, air conditioning is turned down, a little warmth floods the car. In between Sam's legs lays the water bottle that Dean had forced him to chug down half its contents. A bag of trail mix lays forgotten on the seat between them. But Dean had also impressed Sam with tender force to eat some.
They arrive at the bunker, fingers wrap in the soft thread count of Sam's shirt and shakes him awake. Sam stirs and sends Dean a tired smile before unfolding himself from the impala. Dean gathers up everything from the car and follows Mary and Sam up the stairs.
Sam hesitates in the hall.
"Sammy, we'll handle supper, why don't you grab a shower?"
He nods, Sam's eyes lingering on Mary. She smiles reassuringly and Sam's lumbering form disappears down the hall. Mary is concerned as she looks to Dean. Dean just smiles and lets a hand rub down her arm.
"It's okay, Mom. He's gonna be good." Dean walks into the library and starts straightening things up. Mary's starting to recognize her oldest boy as a neat freak. "He just expects you to disappear. It's all too good to believe, Sammy's waiting on the Winchester karma to wipe through and carry you away."
She nods, chewing on the side of her mouth. Hands running along the smooth backs of the chairs. Dean stops across from her, hands mirroring her actions. They both freeze, looking at each other seriously.
"It's okay mom, it's gonna be okay."
"Yeah," she lets out a deep breath, "Yeah I know."
Mary sets out to find them some supper, Dean lets out his own sigh.
This is going to work, there's no way it won't. They're the Winchesters...he and Sam, this is all that they've ever fought for. All they ever stood for. Family. He will die making this work, he'll dedicate the rest of his life letting Mary and Sam get to know each other and spend time together.
For once somehow the odds were in their favor, yes, he loved that phrase from the Hunger Games. He'll be damned if they don't make the most of it.
...
Supper is over. Mary has made off to her room. Dean is full of pie, warm, and just starting to get his buzz. He's in the kitchen, officially his own special place, now that his mom has fessed up to not being able to cook.
Sam has put the kettle on, the steam and stove warming up the sometimes cold room. Dean pops off the lid of a beer, and hands it to Sam. There is comfortable silence as they clink the necks of their bottles together and take refreshing sips.
"You good?" Dean asks, everything laying warm and effortless between them.
Sam nods, "She had some crazy mind spells, but yeah, I'm good."
Dean gives him a fond, sympathetic smile, "Head not too effed up, right?"
Sam just laughs and raises his beer bottle in salute to his older brother. "Turns out this ape did read a book or two. Nice one."
Dean chuckles alongside him. "I knew her for point three seconds and I was over her."
"Yeah? Try her for three days of torture."
"Sheesh." Dean shudders and takes another long drag from his beer.
"So a little back story as to our mom?" Sam lets out a panicky, nervous laugh.
"Oh yeah."
"And as to why your alive."
And that's what is so beautiful between the brothers. There has been awkward happy chatter, there has been awkward...awkward silences. Now there is silence and talk, it all balances perfectly between them.
Blunt questions, meant to sound as preposterous as they were came and went between them without so much as batting an eyelash. Only this time the relief is flowing through their veins and hysterical giggles erupt before Dean can get insane sounding answers out.
"Oh my god," Dean barely breathes out, from his newly acquired seat on the kitchen floor. Sam is still chuckling facing him, their knees touching.
"Our lives." Sam sighs out with a final laughing breath.
Dean nods, wiping a laughter tear from under his eye.
"So..." Sam says looking down, fingers brushing smudges of dirt from the hems of his brother's jeans.
"Yeah."
"How did you do it? How did you change her mind?" Sam asks, finally serious. Because he knows how close Dean was to death. He lost Dean. His brother might not have actually died, but he'd been lost to Sam. Knows that feeling of terror, of hopelessness desperately, has to know if the saving is permanent, or if there is some price to pay.
"I..." Dean shrugs and looks down, chewing his lip. He looks back to his brother, eyes wet and bright. "I put myself in her shoes Sam. Thought if it was you that had locked me away...what would I really want?"
Dean leaves and looks down again, and Sam's heart expands as he looks into this bigger than life, better than life man that is his brother.
"And it wasn't revenge Sammy. You, you remember way back when Meg tricked us in Chicago? You said things could never be the same, that you didn't want them to be?"
Sam nods, remembering the harsh words, but also knowing that both brother's understand their truth now.
Dean smiles at him serenely. "That's where Amara was. She just needed to see that even though things could never get back to being as good as they once were...they could get so much better."
Dean laughs, "So I told her, told her how much I needed you...how much you needed me. Everything that's happened to us, everything we've done to each other...but we've always learned to see past that and to know that we need each other, that things will always be better."
"Wow." Sam sits back shocked, he pushes hair behind his ears. "You 'talked' God's psychotic sister out of ending the world?"
Dean laughs again, looking a little shell shocked, like he hadn't realized it either and Sam joins him.
"Hey," Sam knocks him in the leg with his foot, "I'll drink to that."
They clink bottles again.
"So British men of letters huh?"
"Yeah..." Sam muses, fingers play on his knees.
"Douches." Dean supplies drily.
"Yeah." Sam laughs out, "They're kind of like..."
"...Rowena with a set of morals."
They both get a good laugh out of that impossibility.
"Dean."
And there's the catch in his baby brother's voice. The look in his eyes that scares him because Dean knows that feeling. Knows how teetering on the edge of insanity because of the pain of lose and loneliness feels. His hand is reaching out towards Sam before he even knows, holding on to him to drag him back from that abyss.
You're safe here Sam. I'm here Sammy, we can go on together. But most of all, please Sammy, you scared me so bad. Please don't disappear like that ever again. 'I don't care if twenty women of Letters tie you up and drag you away, please don't ever do that to me again.'
And he can see those same emotions reflected in Sam's eyes. Please never ever leave me again Dean. Don't ever sacrifice yourself, my world, again.
They both are here at rock bottom willing to announce:
I need you.
"And Mom?" Sam asks, under his breath.
Dean shrugs helplessly. "Amara did it. She said she wanted to repay me."
Sam raises eyebrows nodding. "I mean is that it? That's all? I mean, nothing to pay back, no deal, no...?"
"Sam." Dean stops him, a hand warm, and heavy and ALIVE on his arm. "No. This wasn't me. I don't even know what this is. But it's definitely her, I mean, I guess..."
"This is just as much a shock to you as it is to me, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Dean asserts "It was quite the surprise." He laughs drily. "I haven't even had time to think about this Sam." He rubs the creases in his forehead. "I just, I had to find you...and I don't know about any of this, I don't have any answers, I don't know how this will work, but..."
"Dean." Sam halts his pleas of ignorance, with a hand on the arm not extended towards his brother. "Take a breath brother."
Dean's eyes leap to Sam's, he's realizing Sam's isn't blaming him, that they're not going to fight about this. Dean nods, "I just...Sam. She's...she's real. And I don't even know where to begin to deal with this, let alone how to help you deal."
Sam scratches behind his ear, smiling and laughing nervously. "I know." He sighs, "Believe me, I know."
Dean nods, and Sam can see his throat work as he swallows thickly.
"This is hard." Sam mummers.
"It's not not going to get any easier either." Dean says demurely, "You know dad did his best by us, but I can't let her know what he turned into, it would ruin her. He's the only thing that's holding her together right now."
"He was what she hated so much." Sam whispers. "We are what she hates so much." His eyes big, hurt and scared meet Dean's.
"Hey," Dean leans closer to make sure he has Sam's full attention. "We will figure it out." He promises. "We will."
He takes a sip of beer, "This is our family, and we hunt. Nothing is gonna change that, not even Mom, or how much she hates hunting, hunters...us."
Sam feels relief flood through him. A part of him had been so scared Dean would give up everything for their mom. For a life with her, do what ever she wanted. He sees that fire in his brother same as ever.
Dean is right, this is their life. This is who they are.
His brother is across from him relaxed, sprawled against their kitchen cabinets, lazily sipping beer. Sam can't be happier. He's smiling as he throws back his head and chugs down the rest of his beer. He reaches up and slides John's journal off the counter top and into his hands.
"I'm going to give her this, maybe it'll help connect the man she married to the hunter who raised us." Sam's say it firmly, but Dean knows he wants affirmation it's the right thing to do.
Dean nods, "Good idea, might save us some awkward conversations too." The boys had never stopped filling in their dads journal. Most everything they knew and had hunted was documented in the family heirloom.
"Lemme hold it first," Dean says, reaching for the book. Sam hands it to him and watches with a fond smile as his older brother slips his family photographs from within the worn pages. "These are mine." Dean says happily, placing them on the floor beside him and drinking from his bottle again. "Oh shut up," he sputters as Sam laughs at him.
"You big sap."
Dean rolls his eyes but Sam reaches for him and hugs him close. Still overflowing with thankfulness that his brother is alive, is still with him. They're still family.
Dean hugs him back with a stronger, more desperate grip then he would ever confess too. Sammy is safe in his arms, happy and sound. Best of all they're still team...they're going to tag team this whole Mom thing. Neither of them have a clue what they're doing. But they are going to be the best damn sons in the history of heaven, hell, and earth.
"Alright alright," he mumbles, as Sam begins to release him and pull away as the kettle begins to sing. "Don't make me regret saving you from fierce "Lady Toni"."
Sam just laughs and rises to his feet, "Shut up, and whatever, you love it." He pours the boiling water into a cup over a tea bag.
"Yeah yeah," Dean rejoins fingers slipping over the well worn paper of the pictures.
"Okay well," Sam grabs the journal and the tea. "Imma just go give her this."
Dean just nods, "Goodnight Sammy."
"Goodnight Dean."
Sam leaves his brother mulling contentedly of the pictures, he knows it's going to be so hard for Dean to reconcile himself with the woman alive now and the woman in those pictures. But he also knows it going to be even harder for their mom to learn that even though they are her sons, they are men now.
Sam knows he hasn't always been a firm believer in the hunter's life but he is now. He believes in Dean, he believes even in himself. He believes they make a difference for the better. But only when they're together. Walking down the hall he's determined to let her know that this is their family. Their family hunts...it's what they do.
...
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