"What do you mean 'we'?", Dean practically snarls. Sam has seen this coming all night, since the night in the ER examining area. He's even marginally impressed that it's taken Dean this long, that Lilly's managed to shoot him down a few times. But the tentative peace, if you could even use the word, wasn't going to last forever. Dean's hit the end of his restraint and Sam's pretty sure he's met his match.

Lilly speaks softly, carefully, "Nick, can you put Issy to bed, please?". Her eyes are on Dean, and Sam and Nick exchange a look that ends with Nick rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He scoops his daughter up off the couch and squeezes Sam's shoulder with a look that says, just let them get it over with. Sam can't believe Nick is so calm.

"Take her boots off this time, please." Again, Lilly's not looking anywhere but at Dean. Nick carries his daughter down a hallway with a wave of his hand over his head as acknowledgement and as soon as he's out of sight Sam has the briefest impulse to follow him. But he stays with Dean. Either to calm his brother or save him, he's not sure yet.

"Alright. Whatever you have to say. Say it." She demands of his older brother.

"There's no we here. There's me and Sam and Dad. Whatever his reasons are for not telling us, and I'm not saying I'm impressed, but whatever they are, I'm sure they're good." Sam can't believe what he hears Dean saying, can't believe that even now his loyalty to his father trumps all of this.

"We had no idea who the hell you were when we came here. And then you tell us this … story, this impossible freaking story about secret societies and Orders and our mother. My mother. A mother you don't even want anything to do with, you've made that crystal clear. And you just expect us to roll over and believe you? And you think there's a we? Are you fucking kidding me? How do we even know any of this is true? How do we know dad didn't tell us because you aren't some kind of fucking nut case? Maybe that's why mom left you."

"Dean!" Too far, too far, Sam thinks. His brother's voice is getting louder and more angry and he knows where this is leading, remembers the feel of the steel cross beam of a bridge digging into his back as Dean pinned him against for daring to say a word about mom.

"No, Sam. No. I know this is all fucking perfect for you. Perfect school, perfect family, perfect…perfectly good reason to spend another twenty years ragging on dad for every way he ruined your life." Sam is stunned. Not by the words, he's never understood Dean's rejection of normalcy, but he's heard it before. What stuns him is the hurt behind the statement, the raw pain radiating from Dean. And quick is that his brother masks it again with anger.

"Why the hell should either of us believe a thing you say?" Dean demands of her.

"I could easily say the same about you." Her voice is low, dangerous and smooth like the cutting edge of a blade, "My father didn't tell me about you either. Why is that? What threat do you pose? Hmmm? You came for me. You spent, what? Three? Four days following me around? You came to where I work to confront me? And now you stand in my house. My house. And accuse me of concocting a ridiculous story. Why? To impress you? To frighten you? To get my jollies? Why?"

Dean has no answer and this frightens Sam more than his rage. His brother looks cornered, backed up, eyes flashing, and this Dean, is a dangerous Dean. But either she doesn't know or she doesn't care, because she stepped up to him and stares hard up into his eyes and presses him further.

"And you're right. She. Is. Nothing to me. She left me, she left my father and I don't even remember what she looks like without pictures. I don't want to sodding talk about her. But I'm forced to, because here you are. You want answers, and I actually believe you deserve them. We all do. So the very last thing I want to do, little boy, is make crap up, that you can easily refute, so that you can come back later and we can talk about her some bloody more."

No one but their father has ever spoken to Dean this way and gotten away with it. Sam has seen Dean leave quivering and sobbing teachers, police, waitresses and all manner of authority in his angry wake, but this little woman has him by the short hairs and he's fading. He's watching his brother fade before his eyes. And as quickly as Sam marshals some anger against her for doing this to his brother, she backs off, as if sensing she's hurt him and doesn't want to and Sam lets her finish.

"Our fathers, both of them, didn't tell us." Her voice is still low, but the tone now is appeasing, quiet, reasoning, "I suspect they have known for close to a decade and they kept it from us. So as angry as I am in this instant, as badly as I would like never to have to discuss my mother again, I want answers and you can't be so blind or angry as to not, can you?"

Sam finally finds his voice and steps in, "Of course we want to know." He puts a hand on Dean's chest and pushes him back toward the couch. "And no, we don't think you're making this up." Dean snaps his head up toward Sam, but Sam just sits down beside him, thigh pressing against thigh, a quiet sign of solidarity that Sam suddenly feels compelled to give Dean and he gently asks, "Do we?"

When Dean reluctantly shakes his head, Sam takes a steadying breath and continues, "Lilly, the demon that killed mom, killed Jessica, we've been after it for so long. For so long. And now I think my father is on to something, and I think your father is involved, too. And suddenly we're in this together. It's just ... it's a lot." Sam sighs, suddenly feeling so heavy, so tired. He turns to Dean now, trying to negotiate, trying to bring this little triangle together, "So, we really are all in this together somehow. All three of us. Maybe that's why mom sent us here. Maybe she just wanted us to know each other. I don't know." He turns back to Lilly, "We won't know until we talk to our fathers. Alright?"

"Alright." Lilly says.

"Alright?" He pleads with Dean, pressing his leg even harder against his brothers.

Dean simply nods, placated for now.

"Do you think your father knows where Dad is?" Sam asks her.

"Possibly. I'll try London in a couple of hours. As soon as I know what to say." She blows out a tired breath, "I'm not going to tell him you're here. That isn't a conversation I'm prepared to begin over the phone."

"Fair enough." Sam concedes. He's exhausted. He looks at Dean and sees that he's exhausted as well and pale in a way that makes Sam want to take him out of here. To shield him for a little while. He needs his brother to talk to him. He's needs one of those chick flick moments Dean so desperately hates. He needs his brother to just…open up a little. This is so big, so vast, he just needs to know he's in this with Dean and needs Dean to know he isn't alone.

"It's late. We should go." Sam offers and he catches a glimpse of gratitude in Dean's eyes.

"There's room upstairs, if you want to stay." Lilly offers, almost hopeful sounding, "If you're too tired to drive, I mean."

"No." Dean stands abruptly. "We should, uh…" his discomfort brings Sam to his feet too. Sam desperately wants to say yes. To talk to her longer, to get to know her, because despite everything else, he suddenly has a sister and he finds that he likes the idea. But he'll go for Dean's sake.

Nick has returned by now and stands next to his wife, "It's no trouble." Lilly offers again.

"I think we probably need…" Sam's voice trails off.

"Yeah. That's a good idea." Nick steps in.

They walk to the front door awkwardly, Nick hands them their coats and they stumble clumsily through their goodbyes. Once in the car, heading back toward the motel, Sam starts to talk, but doesn't get the chance.

"No." Dean cuts him off before his mouth has fully formed the first sound. His voice is choked and Sam knows he owes his brother something better than being alone with his thoughts.

"You don't have to talk. But you have to listen." Sam is firm, "This is crazy. All of it, I get that man, but it is what it is. We have a sister. We have another pile of questions to ask Dad and at least, maybe she'll help us find him. One step at a time. Alright?" Sam stops for a moment to gage Dean's response and when he doesn't answer Sam continues, "I like her. I know that bothers you, but I do, and I want to get to know her even if you don't. But dude, I'm not all star eyed and confused. She's not…" Sam searches for the right words because after everything that's happened in the last two months, their mother, the asylum, leaving Dean by the side of the road and then nearly losing him, all the betrayals Sam has subjected Dean to, he wants this to be just what Dean needs, deserves, to hear, "…she's not you. She didn't raise me, she hasn't been there my whole life. She isn't you and nothing will change that. We're going to find Dad, together. We're going to find the demon and kill it. Together. Whether or not she's around later, I will be. Alright?"

Dean is silent and Sam is worried that he hasn't gotten through. Then he hears the slight cough, the clearing of Dean's throat and the word whispered so low that anyone without hunter's ears might miss it, "Okay."

"Okay." Sam breaths a sigh of relief. "Let's get some sleep and find out what her father says."