Proudly Codependent
Chapter 2

~for SuperVikinggirl~

In the end, it was Magda, who caused things to come to a head between them.

Dean had never fully trusted the Brits in the first place, but he had made a serious effort in trying to work with them, if not for their mom's sake, then for Sam's.

He had ignored the way his gut had clenched with dismay every goddamn time they had met up with Ketch and Mick or whatever their names were, had swallowed down the snarky remarks that were on the tip of his tongue every time they sat down to discuss a new hunt.

He had fought down the anger that welled up in his chest every goddamn time he got reminded of what these bastards had done to his brother; had tried and failed to ignore that they had taken a blowtorch to Sam's foot and damn near killed him in the process.

He had done it, not because he trusted the Brits, but because he trusted Sam's judgment.

But secretly, maybe even subconsciously, Dean had waited for the other shoe to drop.

So when he sauntered down the stairs of the bunker with take-out and beer, only to get greeted by his brothers loud, clearly-distressed voice as he yelled at their mom and what appeared to be- Mick, from the British Men of Letters, he wasn't all too surprised.

Their different opinions and takes on hunting had often led to arguments, before.

And in all honesty, Dean had realized pretty early on into joining forces with them, that these arrogant jocks would get them into more trouble than they were worth.

Still, it was the way Sam's voice boomed through the bunker that caused Dean's heart to kick up in his chest and that sent the alarm bells in his mind ringing.

Out of the two of them, Dean was definitely the more impulsive, short-tempered one.

He was the one to throw the first punch.

The first one to start yelling.

For Sammy to get this loud- to get this fucking angry- was very out of character and it meant that something must have gone real bad real quick in the hour it took him to get dinner.

"She was a danger to all of us!"

"No, she wasn't!" Sam beckoned, the tendons of his neck standing out beneath his skin and it wasn't until Dean had descended the stairs and taken a good long look at his brother, that he realized the full seriousness of the situation. "She wasn't going to use her powers to harm anyone!"

Sam was livid.

His entire body was coiled tight, his chest was rising far too quickly and his nostrils were flaring with how fast he was breathing.

Dean couldn't remember the last time he had seen Sam like this, but he didn't like it, his protective instinct flaring at the thought that these strangers had come into their home and done something- said something- to evoke that kind of emotion from his little brother.

"Am I interrupting something?" Dean dropped the six-pack of beer on the mapping table with a little more force than necessary, drawing the attention away from his brother and onto himself. He dropped the bags too and took in the unsettled look on their mom's face.

Her features were laced with warring emotions, above all fear and confusion.

Instinctively, Dean took up a stance next to his brother, picking Sam's side before he even knew what this whole thing was about.

"Anyone care to tell me what the hell's going on?"

"We were going through some of the old cases we've disclosed in the past months and—" Mick tried to explain, but Sam didn't let him get much farther.

"They killed her," Sam spat out angrily, voice so loaded with accusation and rage that it threw Dean a little.

He blinked, his gaze flicking from Mick to their mom and back to Sam.

"Who?" he asked, half-afraid of the answer.

Did he trust those Brits? Hell, no. But he found it hard to think they might have actually killed someone Sam cared about enough to elicit that kind of reaction from him.

"Magda," Sam supplied and some of the fight visibly drained from him at the admission, instantly getting replaced by a deep, deep sort of hurt- of betrayal.

It only took Dean a second or two to link the name to the hunt in his mind.

To remember the fanatically religious mom who'd locked up her own daughter in the basement, feeding her scraps of food and making her whip her own back to shreds because she thought Magda to be a devil's spawn.

Oh.

Dean chanced a look at his brother, finally able to locate the source of Sam's anger, of his hurt and feeling his own anger rise again.

"It had to be done and if you were half the hunter you claim to be, you would have had the guts to finish the job yourself!" Mick accused with a sneer of rage, but Dean barely noticed it as he focused his attention on their mother.

"She was a freaking teenager," he said, slowly, carefully, because even if they hadn't experienced the same things that he and Sam and had lived through, he at least hoped that they could sympathize with the fact that she'd been a kid, goddamnit.

"She wasn't human!" Mary reasoned and she couldn't have known the damage those words would cause- that it was quite possibly the worst thing anyone could ever say to Sam in order to hurt him.

But Dean knew.

And the words sent him back on his heels too, bringing back memories so painful and overwhelming that it made his heart stutter in the chest from the force of it.

"Yes, she was," Sam croaked out, shaking noticeably beside Dean, now, from how hard he was trying to hold his emotions back. "You think she wanted to have those powers? You think she had a fucking choice on whether to have them or not? Her own family locked her up and treated her like she was some sort of monster—"

"But that's what she was, Sam," Mary insisted in a sharp tone and Dean sucked in a breath at the words, knowing the effect they would have on Sam. "She didn't have herself under control. She was a danger to herself and to the people around her and she needed to be taken out."

Sam took a small step back as if the words had landed a physical blow to his guts.

He ran a shaking hand over his mouth, glassy gaze flickering to the side in an effort to hide the pain in his eyes. "I'm gonna… I need to…" he muttered dejectedly and then turned around, storming out of the mapping room and down the hallway to his room.

They all flinched at the sound of a door getting slammed shut with enough strength to rattle the walls and then the outburst was followed by tension-filled silence.

Dean wanted nothing more than to go after him and do some damage control.

But he needed to get some stuff off his chest, first.

"Your brother's reaction to this is nothing short of ridiculou—"

"I'd watch my fucking mouth if I was you," Dean shut him up in a low voice, eyes narrowed to dangerous little slits at the indirect insult. This guy hadn't been around them much, but even a douchebag like him should know better than to talk shit about one of them in front of the other.

"Dean, I don't understand," Mary looked torn between stalking down the hallway to talk to Sam and running off again because this was probably more drama than she wanted to deal with and Dean hated her a little for that; for dismissing the seriousness of the situation so entirely.

And all of it, because she didn't know shit about either one of them or their past.

Because she couldn't be bothered to even ask.

Dean fixated Mick with a glare that made him visibly uncomfortable until he seemed to get the message.

"I take it this is an issue that should be resolved within your family," he said and then shot a last, somewhat hesitant look into Mary's direction.

"She'll stay," Dean said just as Mary was about to open her mouth for an answer.

She gave Dean a disapproving look at being spoken for but didn't protest and Dean preferred to think the lack of protest meant that she would have stayed either way.

Mick left and Mary sighed, visibly unnerved and unhappy with the events of the evening.

Dean kept staring at her for long enough to make her squirm before he grabbed a beer from the six-pack and opened it with his keys, handing one to Mary before opening another one for himself.

"Dean, would you just tell me what the hell this is about?" Mary huffed out impatiently and Dean took a sip from his beer before plopping down heavily into one of the chairs surrounding the mapping table. "I hate to side with them here, but Mick's got a point. From what I take this girl wasn't human. She had powers—"

"Sam used to have powers," Dean said, the words leaving a dull taste on his tongue.

He washed it down with another swig of beer, closing his eyes and rubbing a weary hand over them.

"W-what?" Mary asked and there was a catch in her voice.

He wasn't in the mood to go into any depth here, but he would tell her what she needed to know.

"That demon that killed you didn't have it out for you," Dean explained with a solemn look on his face. "He came for Sammy. He wanted to turn Sam into one of his children. Fed him his blood."

Mary stared at Dean in shocked silence and then sank down into a chair as if her legs could no longer hold her upright. "He fed him his…"

"Blood," Dean repeated, sitting the beer bottle down in front of them and toying with the etiquette. "Turns out Yellow-Eyes was looking for someone to lead his demon army. Sam was only one of so many others, who got corrupted by him. It's a long story, but point is- Sammy had powers like Magda, too."

"I didn't know…" Mary said in a raw whisper, looking longingly down the hallway to where Sam had slammed the door closed. "Dean, I had no idea."

"Sam's a good kid. He's about as good as they come, mom."

"Dean, I know that."

"No, you don't," Dean said, shaking his head a little. "You hardly know anything about him. Look, you- you send me texts and play silly games with me on the phone and I love that shit, really, I do… but Sam's been so damn excited to get to know you and you just…"

Dean didn't even know what he was trying to say here.

He knew that their mom was having a hard time, trying to deal with everything that was happening around her.

Traveling in time and coming back from the dead was gonna do that to you…

But Mary hadn't even made a conscious effort to get to know Sam and Dean wouldn't be the big brother he prided himself in being if he hadn't noticed the dejected looks on Sam's face every time Dean grinned at his phone after Mary had kicked his ass in Scrabble.

Sam had spent his entire childhood wishing for a parent who'd be proud of his accomplishments and pay him the attention he'd never really gotten from their dad. Someone who'd openly show affection and who'd encourage him in his academic endeavor's and sit in the first row at his school plays.

He had always wished for a mother and now that he finally had one, he was forced to watch her bond with Dean over their love for classic cars and rock music and greasy food, while Sam himself- was once again left to play the third wheel.

Rationally, Dean knew that this wasn't really the case; that mom loved them both equally, but Sam didn't see it that way.

And to hear Mary say that Magda wasn't human, that she had deserved to die, must have only solidified his belief that their mother didn't really care about him.

That she too, would have rather seen him dead than to turn into the demon-blood addict he'd been, all those years ago. Just like their father had.

If you can't save him… you're gonna have to kill him, son.

Dean shook his head with a huff of air at the memory… It was crazy how some things never completely left you, even years after they happened.

He was sure he was going to remember their dad's last words until his dying day.

"Sam never used his powers to hurt anyone," Dean said slowly. "On the contrary, he tried to save people with them."

Mary was about to interrupt him but Dean held up a hand to stop her, his gaze fiery as it met hers in a clash of wild colors. "That's how good he is and you are standing there, siding with the guys who tortured him!"

"Dean," Mary pleaded, her voice breaking a little. "I didn't know."

"Then why didn't you ask?" Dean's voice rose in volume, firing across the table like shrapnel. "You've had every goddamn chance to ask him stuff… about his past, about him."

She didn't know about Stanford or Jessica or Sam's powers because she had never tried to even talk to him about any of it and that was something Dean would never be able to forgive.

"That girl, she was just a few years younger than Sam when the full effects of the demon blood hit him, mom. So what these bastards did to Magda, they might as well have done to Sam."

And there lay the real problem.

Sam and Dean had experienced enough, to know that hunting wasn't all black-and-white.

There were many shades of gray in what they did; many exceptions and Magda had been one of those rare exceptions where they let someone off the hook because it was the right thing to do- even when all the signs were pointing in a different direction.

But they had come to realize that not all monsters needed killing and that sometimes it was the humans you needed to be careful with.

Mary got up from her seat. "I should go and talk to him—"

"I'd give him some time if I were you," Dean advised gently, nursing his beer.

Sam rarely got angry like this, but when he did, he needed his space – needed to go for a jog or to blow off some steam in the shooting range, before he was able to sit down and talk about it.

"But—"

"Trust me," Dean said with a sharp look because even if she disregarded his advice, there was no way Dean would let her get close to Sam after what she'd said earlier.

He sighed and lifted himself up from his seat before rummaging around in the library and returning with a small stack of trashy-looking books.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Dean sighed and dropped the books off on the table before his mom.

She stared down at the cover page that spelled the words "SUPERNATURAL – by Carver Edlund" in a graffiti-like font.

"You wanna know more about his visions?"

"He was having visions?" Mary asked, paling a little at the news.

Dean selected three or four books from the collection and checked their index to see if he'd chosen the right ones before he shoved them unceremoniously at Mary's chest. "These should catch you up on our lives. Don't call again before you've read them."

Dean drained the rest of his beer and then left down the same hallway Sam had taken earlier, leaving Mary to her own devices as he hunted down Sam's door, forgoing his own room in the process.

He heard the bunker's door close and winced a little at the loud screeching noise before he knocked on Sam's door, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Sammy?"

Sam didn't answer and Dean sighed before turning the knob and stepping inside.

The lights were shut off, but even in the darkness, Dean could make out Sam's large form beneath the covers, could hear- from the way he was trying too hard to breathe evenly- that he wasn't asleep.

Dean flipped the light switch and went to sit down on the edge of Sam's mattress.

"Leave," Sam croaked out, his voice barely loud enough to give away the slight tremor in his tone.

Dean's heart clenched at the word, but he didn't make a move to get up.

"She didn't mean it, Sam," Dean reassured quietly. "She would have thought differently if she'd actually seen Magda, or gotten to talk to her."

Sam was quiet and Dean let out a slow breath, for once unsure on what to say to make things better.

"They killed her," Sam said in a low whisper and Dean locked his jaw, closing his eyes as he rested his head against Sam's headboard and swallowed past his own rage. "I know, Sammy."

"We've worked with them and they just…"

"Hey," Dean reached out to blindly reach for Sam's shoulder- his neck, anything to squeeze for reassurance. "You didn't know, Sam. You couldn't have known what they did."

"I told her that nothing bad was going to happen to her and they offed her on the same fucking day."

Sam's voice cracked on the last word and Dean swallowed before thinking 'fuck it,' to himself and wrestling with Sam's covers until he was able to slide his legs beneath.

Sam scooted over automatically- a move perfected during their childhood when they used to share beds at every goddamn motel they stayed at. Another glorious part of their childhood and John Winchester's grade-A-parenting that Mary couldn't be bothered to hear about.

"What are you—" Sam protested weakly when Dean's arms wormed their way around his body.

"Shut up," Dean said with no real heat in his words and then waited for Sam to go lax against him.

Sam resisted for just a moment longer, stiff and squirming uncomfortably against Dean before he gave up and allowed the cuddling to happen.

He was still then, almost deathly so and with the first shuddery breath he allowed himself to take in again, the emotions finally overcame him.

Dean tightened his arms around Sam.

"Screw them," Dean whispered fiercely into Sam's neck as he felt his little brother tremble and shake with the sobs he didn't want to let out, a hurt, so old and deep-rooted that Sam had nearly forgotten it, having once more gotten a hold of him. "Screw them and their fucking opinions, Sammy."

And yeah, with 'them' he meant all of them, family or not.

Nobody got to hurt his little brother like that.

"They don't know shit about you."

But I do.

"You're not a monster."

You've never been.

Not even at your worst.

"Not to me, man. You know that, right?"

Sam just clung to him a little tighter and Dean closed his eyes, taking that for the answer it was.

The END.

Hope you guys enjoyed this little piece! There's no real strategy behind the way I pick prompts. I'll just go with the ones I feel like writing at the time. Hope that's cool with everyone. You can continue to send me new ones, too! I'll try to keep the updates coming more regularly ;) Reviews make my day!