A/N! Hey there, hope you're all doing great! I know I am way too late for this, but I really wanted to write it, even now.! So, here I am, and all I can do, is hope that you will enjoy the story. So, this story is about episodes 13 and the beginning of episode 14. So, basically, it's the entire conversation between Sam, Dean and Mary, regarding her choice to join forces with The British. I have taken pieces from the original dialogue, and I've added some more things. I have to warn you however, that in both episodes 13&14 I didn't like Mary. So she is kind of... Cold in this story. I do like her in general, but I hated that she lied to her sons. So please keep that in mind.

Special thanks to my awesome beta reader Geekyfangirl131, for checking the story out. She is great and I can't thank her enough for all the help she has offered me!

Also, keep in mind that I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters, only my vivid imagination! No money are made by this piece!

So, I've said enough, off we go!

FULL SUMMARY:

Post s12e13 "Family Feud" and Coda to the first three minutes S12E14 "The Raid." Does not contains spoilers about 12x14.

When Mary comes out to her sons about working with the British Men of Letters, things are bound to get nasty. While Sam stays silent, Dean erupts and for the first time in years, he speaks what's in his mind. He blames his mother for betraying them, for allaying with Sam's tormentors, for not wanting to understand that they are her sons...
Dean then leaves the room, and Sam says a few words to his mother as well, before following his brother, whose pieces he is called to gather up and put back together... And as always, their beloved Impala is there, with her leather seats ready to conceal the brothers, who seek shelter in the one place they have ever called home.

Hope that you'll enjoy it!

"Us, or Them..."

Sam was feeling good, the case had gone well, Fiona's ghost was no more and all the dead people were back, on the land of the living. That, for Sam, was a clear win, a win no-one could doubt. And even though from what he could hear, Cas had no traces of Rosemary's whereabouts, he was convinced that they would find her. He was happy, after a long time, knowing that he and Dean were free, and on the same page, united in more ways than one. Dean hung the phone up and moved behind Sam, letting his hand rest on the back of his brother's neck.

Sam let his head fall backwards and eyed his brother, who softly, smiled down at him. "A win always feels nice, doesn't it?" Questioned the younger man and Dean let his right hand roam over Sam's chest, while lowering himself so as to be able to touch Sam's lips with his own. "Yeah, but demon- baby-mama-drama is in the wind." The green eyed man whispered into the kiss and Sam couldn't help but smile. "We'll find her, me, you and Cas. Mom will help us too." He replied, his voice filled with honesty. But as the last word was out of his mouth, the younger man saw Dean's face frowning.

"Dean, come on, she needs-" "Time, yeah, whatever..." Dean said, shrugging it off. "Dean, talk to me. Please... Let me in." Sam whispered, grabbing his brother by the hand before the other man could turn away from him. "I..." Dean started to say only to stop, as his neck and lips went dry all of a sudden. Swallowing, Dean licked his lips and tried again. "I have this feeling... That mom is hiding something from us. Something big." Dean said and Sam could see it wasn't easy for him to speak those words out loud. Sam frowned at first and Dean felt his gut twitching at the sight, but the younger man was fast on softening his facial expression.

"Dean, why would you-" "Forget it, I was wrong-" "No, don't go there, I'm not mad at you Dean, I really am not, and I want to hear what you have to say about mom." Replied the younger man, guiding Dean around the chair so that the other man was no longer standing behind him, but in front of him instead. Dean's green eyes were filled with love and the older man sighed as he opened his mouth to speak. "I don't know man, it seems as though mom is-" But no more words escaped his lips for the old door of the bunker opened and Dean moved back to where he had been standing, behind Sam.

Both men would be lying if they were to say they weren't happy to see their mother walking down the stairs, coming towards them. They were thrilled and even though Dean pointed out the fact that they hadn't seen her in a long, long, long, long, long, long time, Sam was fast on stepping into the role of the lawyer and declared that what Dean meant, what they both meant, was that they had missed her. And they indeed had missed her, Sam in particular, who had taken several steps back, in order for Dean to be able to spend as much time with their mother as possible.

Mary put the bags with the burgers and the beer on the table and as Sam let his eyes linger on her, he could feel that there was something that was bothering her. "There is no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it." She said, and Sam felt his blood running cold in his veins. "I've... been working with the British men of Letters." Mary said, and Sam was sure he hadn't heard right. "Um... What?" He muttered, eyes blinking and then narrowing, eyebrows coming together.

"Mom... We, um... We have a history with them." Sam managed to say, using every bit of self control he had, as well as every bit of knowledge he had gained from Stanford, in order for his voice to sound calm and for his words to be those he uttered and not those he really wanted to speak of. "I know, Sam." The woman answered, in a rather hard tone. "And it was a hard decision." She continued, but Sam could see that it wasn't all that hard for his mother to take the side of his tormentors. He eyed her carefully, and all of a sudden, he found himself looking for traces of guilt in her gaze, for cracks in her voice. But no matter how hard he looked, he could find nothing.

Mary's face was almost hard, her voice steady, with not as much as a hint of remorse in it. And Sam wanted this to stop, God, he wanted this to be a lie. But it wasn't, for Mary kept talking, saying how she had saved a lot of people, how they could learn from them. The younger man remained silent however, unable to utter a single word. His eyes were fixed on the table, but he could feel Dean standing next to him, tension and stiffness coming out of every pore of his body. "Do not give me the face." Mary said, voice hard, as if she had every right to be angry. But she had no right, no right at all.

"What face?" Dean asked and Sam didn't have to look up to know the way his brother was looking at his mother. He had seen that so called 'face', and he never wanted to see it again. For that face was hard, tensed and fierce. Dean's eyes were filled with anger, but if Mary could look deeper than the first layer, she would see the tremendous amount of hurt in those emerald eyes. But as it would seem, Mary had never bothered to learn anything about her sons, thus all she could see, was Dean's anger. Sam however, tried again, giving one more chance to their mother, all while defending himself and everything both he and Dean had always stood for. Everything John, had stood for.

"Mom..." Sam uttered, letting his eyes flutter close. "We have our own toolkit and it works just fine." He said, but he could feel the words getting out of his mouth harder and harder, as the lump in his throat kept growing and growing, until the younger hunter was sure it would choke him. "And for obvious reasons, like broken ribs and burned feet... We don't trust the Brits." Sam said, leaving the rest of what he had been through out of his narration. Letting his gaze linger on his mother's face again, Sam waited for her to do something, to say something...

But Mary did neither, nor said anything, she just opened and closed her mouth and moved towards the other side of the table. Sam let his head drop as he beheld that sight and felt desperation filling his heart. Because for all he knew, what was standing between him and his mother, wasn't a table, but a mountain, or to put it better, an ocean, a burning ocean of liquid fire. And as Sam looked up again, he saw Toni and Ketch and Mick standing next to his mother. For she had chosen them, those strangers, instead of her own sons.

And Sam wanted to close his eyes and never open them again, because the sight was excruciatingly painful to him. This meant that their mother had betrayed them, and all of a sudden Sam found himself at a loss for words as feelings of guilt, anger, sorrow and of loneliness rose up to his chest, battling fiercely. A small voice inside his head, was hissing that they were strangers to their mother as well, that it was something they had done, which had driven her away. But what, what could it be? Sam could find no answer to that.

"So, where does that leave us?" Dean questioned, voice hard, body stiff and in high alert. Mary blinked a couple of times and then swallowed hard. "You and Sam will always be-" "I asked, where does that leave us?" Dean repeated and Mary gasped silently, getting the point Dean had emphasized. 'We don't trust the Brits.' 'We have our own toolkit.' 'Where does that leave us?' Not just Dean, or just Sam, never just one of them, always both of them, together, united, closer than they should ever be... "Same place as always. Family." She eventually replied, but Dean wouldn't have that. "Right... Family..." He muttered.

Sam could feel Dean's anger radiating off of him as he uttered those words. But he chose to stay silent, because he knew that tone. Dean was on the verge of breaking. In fact, he had already been broken. And it was his time to talk, to get angry. "I'm playing three decades of catch-up here!" Mary shot back and a part of Sam couldn't believe how outrageous it was, for his mother to use such a sharp tone in her voice. "And we're not?" Dean asked then and Sam desperately wanted to take Dean's pain away, but despite his intentions he couldn't do that, for his own pain was equal in measure.

"And we're not? How do you think this has been for us? Our whole lives, you've been gone!" Dean rasped in such a low voice that Sam felt something break inside of him. "I don't know when, but at some point along the way, you stopped being a person... You began to fade from my memory, and for all I knew, you were living in old photographs." Dean uttered, words escaping his lips like rivers, only they were burning him, as if they were mere acid. So he kept talking, voice filled with bitterness, so much bitterness and self loathing, that one could drown in it.

"You faded from my memories, from my dreams." Dean spat, feeling Sam's hand ghosting over his in an attempt to calm him down. But nothing could stop him now, for a myriad of emotions were battling brutally within him, overrunning every corner of his body, making it cold and barely functional. Yet, Dean kept talking, for he had stayed silent long enough. Yes, thirty years had been a long time, and for all those years he had obeyed his father's orders almost blindly, never had he spoken up to him. And everything he had ever done, was in memory of his mother... Even though he had all but forgotten her.

"You became more of an idea, a symbol of innocence, carelessness and freedom. A symbol of a life we once had, but we could no longer dream of, for it had burned up with you. You became... Your death, became the cause for a never ending crusade, thus your memory had to be honored." Dean paused then, swallowing hard, turning his shadowed face away from his mother's watery gaze. Sam cleared his throat and spoke, voice low, meaningful. "And when we finally killed yellow-eyes we thought it would bring us peace. But instead it caused us more pain, because you were still gone. But now, after all this time, you are-" "I'm right here Sammy-" Mary began to say, voice not as steady as before.

"It's Sam, not 'Sammy.'" Dean muttered in between gritted teeth as his green eyes met downcast hazel ones. "And you're not here. You left as soon as you realized we were not who you'd thought we would be." "Dean, the sons I remember-" "Are mostly dead! The sons you were with, in Heaven, don't exist anymore. The cruelty and hardships of this screwed world have changed them, time has not been kind to them either, for it has placed unbearable weights on their shoulders. But still, you could try and look for them, learn as much as you can about them, give them what they never had, give them what hellish blazers took from them. Because they stand before you." Dean said, voice surprisingly low, filled with mere bitterness as all traces of anger were gone.

Gone, because Dean was way too broken to try and raise thick walls so as to protect himself from the pain, like he would usually do. Gone, because Dean was broken, so very broken. And the only thing Sam could do, was to turn his head away from his mother and towards his older sibling, who by that point, had reached his limits. "So, how about for once, you just try and be a mom?" He asked, rage once again building up in his voice.

Rage, yes, for it as the only thing which was keeping Dean together at that point. Sam, knew that for sure. "I am your mother, but I am not, just a mom." Mary replied, voice low, steady, her words hard, cold even. "And you are not a child." She continued and it was in that moment, Sam felt bile rising up in his throat. Because Dean had never been a child. He had always been a soldier, who was fighting an never ending battle, a battle in the name of family, a battle in memory of his beloved mother, 'Mary.' "I never was." Was all the older man said, and at the sound of his broken voice, Sam felt every bit of his body aching with a tremendous amount of pain...

"I know that it was hard for both of you." Mary replied and the younger man found himself blinking. "You know nothing, and like I said, now that you had the chance to learn, you just bailed." Dean rasped, taking over the reins once again, knowing that Sam was lost at that moment. "So, between us and them..." "It's not like that-" "Yeah, Mary, it is." Dean continued, underlining the word 'Mary', making Sam cast a glimpse over his shoulder, towards him. "And you've made your choice. So, there is the door." The green eyed man uttered, pointing towards the old metallic door of the bunker, which their mother had shut right on their faces just a few weeks ago.

"Dean, this isn't between you and Sam and them-" "There is no 'me and Sam.' Didn't we make this clear? There's an 'us', and then there's a 'them', which you chose. So, I'm done talking!" Dean snapped, but Mary tried to get one more chance. "Just, hear me out. Please, I'm doing this for you, and for Sam, so that our family can live in a free world, a better world. So that I can finally, be the mother you long for." The woman said, voice still low and relatively even.

"Well, you're doing a great job with that." Dean whispered, eyes burning. "You're betraying your so called family, you're taking the side of the people who tortured my brother!" "Dean, Toni has been punished, not all of them are like that. They are doing a good job-" "They have hurt my little brother and you have alleged with them!" "I know that Toni hurt Sam Dean, and there isn't a day that goes by without me wanting to do something about it. But you have to hear me out, that's all I'm asking. To put aside that fact for just a little while and-" "Put it aside? Put what aside? The fact that a psychotic bitch shot my brother, then kidnapped him, tied him to a chair-" "I saw what she did Dean, I was there-" "No, you have seen nothing!" Dean rasped and Sam took in a sharp breath.

"You saw nothing! You didn't see what happened after we got back here, you weren't there when Sam was having a freaking panic attack-" "Dean, please man, don't-" But Dean ignored Sam's weak plea and kept talking. "Nor were you there when he was fighting off the drug that British bitch had given him, which had resulted in him thinking Satan himself had created you out of thin air!" Dean rasped, waving his hands in anguish. "Well, maybe that's because you wouldn't let me step a foot inside his room-" "Turns out I made the right call after all!" Dean hissed, voice gravely. "Dean I-" "So I'm not going to say it again, Mary." Dean continued, clenching his fingers into fists. "There is the door." And with those bitter, almost poisonous words, Dean started walking away, his jaw locked in place so as to hold back his screams, his fingers clenched into fists so as to remain steady.

"Sam..." Mary said as soon as the green eyed man was out of the bunker's main room. "Sam, I am truly sorry that Toni put her hands on you-" "I think you should go." Was all Sam managed to utter as he gathered himself up from the chair, his legs feeling like jello. "Sammy, I just-" "It's 'Sam.'" The young man replied, eyeing his mother, whose face darkened at the sound of those words. "Look, what are you going to do? Maybe, if you think about what I've said-" "What has he ever done?" The younger man questioned, tears welling in his sad hazel eyes. "What? "What has my brother ever done, to deserve to hear such hard words from you?" The man uttered, pure pain radiating as he spoke.

"What has this man ever done, other than fight for this family? Other than fight for you, for me, other than obeying dad, other than putting up with everything and everyone?" Sam continued, voice cracking, and Mary wasn't sure who her son wanted to answer him. "Nothing, he has done nothing but that, his entire life." Sam said, answering to his own, rather rhetorical question. "And in all my years, in all our many, many, ugly fights, I have never... Not once, seen him so broken." Mary swallowed soundly then, feeling her eyes blurring. "So, here is what I'm going to do." Sam paused then, fixing his gaze on the woman before him.

"I'm going to get in there and I'm going to try and put back the millions of small pieces your words have shuttered my brother into. And I don't care that you're working with the same people who tortured me." Sam continued, voice low. "After all, I may as well be a wretched, broken, barely functional hunter, who's haunted by the Devil. But Dean... Dean..." Choking a small sob, Sam gathered up his courage, as well as all his effrontery and spoke up. "Dean doesn't deserve to be hurt like that, not by you, not by me, not by anyone. And right now, you don't seem to deserve all the sacrifices he has made in your name." Sam muttered, breath hitching as he spoke. Mother and son remained silent after that, with Sam turning around and towards the direction Dean had fled, a couple of minutes later.

Mary shivered then, but a few moments later she was climbing up the stairs, shutting the old metallic door behind her for yet another time. This time round however, the rattle didn't reach neither Sam's, nor Dean's ears, for the latter's screams, mixed with broken sobs and the word 'why' as they were, blocked the sound. And when Dean started punching the wall, Sam got behind him, grabbing his bloodied hands with his own, all the while, lowering them both on the floor. He didn't know how many times Dean uttered the word 'why', nor did he know how many times had he answered 'It's going to be alright, I'm here, I'm right here.' All he knew, was that at some point, Dean's sobs eased and eventually ceased.

Sam then picked Dean up from the floor, promising that he would take him home. And home he did take him, for he led them both in the garage, where the Impala was parked. The younger man yanked his brother in the passenger's seat and sat behind the wheel mere moments later, starting off the all too familiar engine. And then, he drove, on and on, following the road, having nowhere to go. For all he knew, they were running away, but as the hour grew late, Dean's breath evened out, the leather seats acting as a loving embrace for him, the vibrations as his lullaby. Only then did Sam pull the car off the road, killing the engine.

Turning around, Sam looked at his lap, where Dean's face was. His green eyes were open, looking up. "Where are we?" The green eyed man uttered, voice hoarse. "Does it matter?" Sam replied, voice thick and low. "No. No Sammy, it doesn't." Sam let his hands fall from the wheel then, all while his eyes fluttered close. "All that's ever mattered, is that we're together. You and me." Dean continued, lacing his fingers with Sam's. "I'll always be here, with you, Dean." Sam said after a while. "Here, by your side." Dean swallowed hard then, prompting himself up, so as to look Sam's face. "I know Sammy, I know, baby boy. For it had always been you and me. In the very end, it's always you and me. And so it will always be." Dean muttered, cupping Sam's cheek, feeling wetness under his fingers.

"I've got you Sammy." Dean said then, his big brother instinct kicking in, as well as, the need to comfort Sam. "I know Dean." Sam uttered in a broken voice. Shifting so as to be more comfortable, Dean gathered Sam in his arms, and started humming, low and deep in his throat. And just like that, it was Sam's turn to fall apart. His body shuddered time and time again, as the younger man fought back the tears as well as his memories from his time as a prisoner in Toni's basement. Eventually, he seemed to be unable to win any of those battles, as the tears started running down his eyes like rivers, while words and muffled phrases escaped his lips. And somewhere in between the raged, shallow breaths, Dean could hear Sam's words, which were making his heart ache as though it was cut by the sharpest of knives.

Because those words were giving life to images which were meant to haunt Dean's mind from that moment ever on. Words pained and broken, describing what Toni had done to Sam, describing the desperation the younger man had felt as his mind had slowly begun to understand that Dean wouldn't walk through that door to save him. Words filled with pain, fear, agony, sadness, but above all else, filled with a sense of unfairness, because Sam had suffered in the hands of that woman. He had suffered, but his very own mother had chosen to overlook that fact... And if that wasn't unfair to say the least, then Sam didn't know what to call it. "Sammy, it's okay now, baby boy it's alright, you're safe Sammy, I've got you, I've got you..." Dean rasped, bringing his brother as close to his own body as possible.

Sam bit his lip as he felt his body being wracked with sobs over which he had no control. God, he was feeling like a little kid again, but if he wanted to be honest with himself, he couldn't care less about that fact at that moment. Because it didn't really mattered that he was a grown up man, no, Sam knew that for Dean, age was but a number. For Dean, Sam was and would always be, his little brother, his best friend, his passionate lover, who could somehow make his body fit in the front seat of the Impala, despite the fact he was way too tall. No, none of those things didn't matter...

"I've got you and as long as I'm around, nothing bad will happen to you. Nothing, baby boy..." Dean whispered, vowing for yet another time the same vow which he had uttered years ago. At the sound of those words, Sam's body shuddered even harder, making even more tears ran down his cheeks. "Dean, I didn't meant to tell you all those things..." "Shh, easy Sammy, let it all out, I'm here with you..." Dean uttered through gritted teeth, feeling yet another wave of tears on the skin of his neck.

And down and down the tears ran, until eventually, Sam's body went lax, as the younger man had no more tears to shed, no more horrors to narrate. And that was how a red dawn found them, tangled up in the front seat of the Impala, silent, fast asleep. Hurt, betrayed, broken, yet together. Always together, until the end of all things, until the day when the sun won't light up the sky anymore...

So, here it ends! I know it's kind of sad, but this is what I felt when I was watching the episode! Hope that you enjoyed! Comments and Kudos are like hot chocolate! They keep me going!

Also, if any of you is interested a new story will be uploaded soon, a coda to 12x16 "Ladies Drink Free".~~

So, until next time,
I love you all,
Usagi!