A/N: I just want to quickly thank anyone who's read this story so far, in particular thanks to xjmcx19 for the review. I hope you enjoyed last chapter and that you'll continue to enjoy it. Onwards!

Chapter 2

Dean had seen a lot of crap in his time. Angels, demons, God, even? Sure, he could deal with that. But his very dead mother standing in front of him looking very much alive? That took the biscuit. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he dimly registered that this was Amara's way of paying him back for reuniting her with Chuck, but his usually agile brain still seemed to be stuck on the fact that she was here, she was real, she was alive.

Dean mentally shook himself and attempted to make his vocal cords work, but he only managed to croak out one word.

"Mom?"

The woman in front of him, seemingly recovering from her shock, rushed forward. Before Dean could react, she grabbed his shirt and held a fist up, ready to strike. Apparently the hunter in her had never truly gone away.

"Who are you?" She demanded. "Where am I?"

Dean swallowed. This was going to be hard. "Your name is Mary Winchester. I'm Dean Winchester, your son."

She scoffed. "You think I'm going to believe that? My Dean is four."

Dean remembered another conversation like this back in 1979, one that Mary didn't know ever happened. He steeled his nerve and began to speak.

"It's true, I promise. When I would get sick, you would make me tomato rice soup because that's what your mom made you. When I couldn't sleep, instead of a lullaby, you would sing 'Hey Jude' to me, because that's your favourite Beatles song. And each night, before me and Sammy went to sleep, you would tell us that angels are watching over us."

Mary's grip on Dean's shirt loosened and she stumbled back, shock written all over her pale face.

"How did you-" she began.

"Because I'm your son," Dean gently replied. "You died when I was four years old and Sammy was six months. A demon came into Sam's nursery on 2nd November 1983 and he killed you in a fire above the crib when you tried to stop it. But don't worry because, Sam and me, we returned the favour. Son of a bitch died years ago."

Mary was staring at him, the realisation that he was telling the truth beginning to dawn on her. She swayed dangerously so, before she could crumple to the earth, Dean ran forward and caught her. He held her and, after a brief moment, she gripped him tight with a surprising ferocity. They stood together, mother and son reunited, and, for the first time that night, Dean allowed the tears to fall.

Dean could have stayed like that forever but he knew they had to get out of wherever they were. Sam and Cas both thought he was dead - not to mention Mary - and, if he was being honest, all Dean wanted was to get back home to the Bunker and his bed. He gently pulled away and brushed the back of his hand against his eyes. He glanced up and saw Mary doing the same.

"Mom." Dean's voice was still thick with tears so he quickly cleared his throat before trying again. "Mom, we need to go. Have to get back to Sammy and -" his breath caught slightly "and Cas. Let them know we're not dead. Not safe here anyway."

Mary nodded. "Okay. Where are we?"

Dean squinted round. The landscape felt oddly familiar and a memory tickled in the back of his head. Voices sounded behind him and he spun, gasping.

"Dean," a woman's voice fondly called. "Don't run off please. Stay where we can see you."

Dean turned towards the source of the noise. A little boy ran out from between the trees and, a few feet behind him, walked a man and a woman. The man's arm was wrapped around the woman's waist and she was pushing a stroller ahead of her. Dean - the younger Dean - nodded at his parents and ran off again to explore the 'wilderness'. Mary and John shook their heads and laughed. They looked so happy; it hurt to see them like this when he knew that in just a few short weeks that happiness would be shattered forever. In fact...

Dean swore lightly under his breath and his heart clenched as he recognised the scene. This was 2nd November 1983, the last good memory Dean had of them all together before Yellow Eyes came and took it all away. The day had been surprisingly warm for November - which was a change from all the electrical storms that had been plaguing them recently - and Dean had begged his parents to take him to the park. They had initially refused but, after much whining and more than a few crocodile tears on Dean's part, they had finally relented. They had spent nearly all day there and Dean had shown Sam all round the park as Sam grinned toothlessly up at his big brother.

The memory began to fade and soon it was gone completely. Dean realised he was crying again and hurriedly wiped his tears away before turning to face his mother.

"I know where we are," he choked out hoarsely.

Mary waited expectantly as Dean tried to settle his jangled nerves.

"We're in Lawrence. We're home."

Mary had taken the revelation that - until a few hours ago anyway - she was dead surprisingly well. She had seemed reluctant to leave Lawrence but Dean knew it was for the best and she eventually agreed with him. The two of them were driving along the I-70 towards Lebanon in a clunky old pick-up Dean had hotwired off the side of the road. Fortunately the Bunker was only a couple of hours away; Dean didn't think this old rust-bucket could stand more than that. It wasn't a patch on his Baby.

"Where are we going again?" Mary asked.

"There's this Bunker. It's the safest place on Earth for people like us and it had files on every nasty out there. It used to belong to the Men of Letters - Dad's dad was one of them - but they were mostly wiped out in the 50's. One of the survivors gave us a key to the Bunker - turns out we're Legacies - so now Sam and me have taken over the joint. Him and Cas should be there when we arrive."

"John never talked about his father much," Mary absently commented. "Only that he disappeared when John was young."

Dean winced, unsure whether or not to talk about his involvement in Henry's 'disappearance'. He sucked in a deep breath and made to explain.

"Henry... He didn't exactly disappear."

Mary turned in her seat to face him. "What do you mean?" she asked sharply.

"In 1958 a, er, a Knight of Hell called Abbadon attacked the Men of Letters. Henry managed to escape by creating a portal into the future. It was supposed to take him to Dad, but he ended up with me and Sam instead. Abbadon followed him through and we managed to defeat her but Henry got killed doing so. That's why he never came back. He saved our lives and we got him killed in return." Dean hung his head, feeling his mother's gaze burning into the back of his head.

Minutes passed before Mary spoke again. "It wasn't your fault Dean," she said softly. "Henry made his own choice. If only John had known what a hero his father was..." She started suddenly as if something had just occurred to her. "You said that portal was supposed to take Henry to your father. Why didn't it? Where's John?"

Dean's throat constricted and he took several deep breaths to calm himself. He'd known this was coming yet he still wasn't prepared for how hard it was going to be. "Dad... He, um, he's..." He heard Mary's sharp intake of breath that indicated she knew what was about to follow. Tears blurred Dean's vision and he quickly blinked them away. "He died a few years back. I was really badly injured in hospital, apparently I was about to die. Dad sold his soul to The Demon so that he died in exchange for me being healed. He went to Hell for me, Mom. I mean, he got out eventually but he's still dead and it's all my fault."

The grief over his father's death that had lain dormant for years suddenly rose up and threatened to choke him. He guided the truck to the side of the road and sat back in his seat. His breathing was too fast and his hands were shaking so badly he probably would have crashed the car if he'd been driving. Mary slid her arm around his shoulders and Dean felt a twinge of guilt; it should have been him comforting her. After all, she was the one who had just been resurrected over 30 years after her death only to learn that her husband had died before she could see him again. But he couldn't stop the tidal wave of emotion pouring out of him so he let his mother hold him like she had done when he was four years old.

They could have sat there for hours; Dean didn't know or care. Eventually, however, his tears dried and he managed to get them back onto the road. Just under an hour later they were pulling up in front of the comforting sight of the Bunker. Dean led the way down the steps and through the front door. Mary followed him, gazing in wonder at the large atrium they found themselves in. It appeared to be deserted; Sam and Cas must have been in their rooms. Dean leaned on the banister and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose. It felt good to be home again.

That good feeling lasted approximately three seconds after re-opening his eyes. That was also about the amount of time it took for him to notice the pools of blood on the marble floor and register what it meant. All rational thought went out of his head and he pounded down the metal stairs. In the back of his mind he vaguely heard Mary calling for him and asking what was wrong but Dean couldn't focus on anything but the red stains before him.

He knelt down in front of the largest puddle and dipped his fingers in it. It had cooled and begun to dry, which meant that whoever had done this had left hours ago. Upon further inspection he noticed a large sigil on the wall. Angel banishing. Whatever had happened, this person had obviously known who - what - they would be dealing with. Blind panic clouded Dean's mind and he frantically searched the room for any sign of his brother. Finding none, he ran his hands through his hair. If only he hadn't stopped on that stupid road, if only he hadn't broken down like he did, maybe then he'd have got back in time to help Sam and Cas.

"SAM!" He yelled into the empty space. "SAMMY! CAS!"

Castiel was wandering a dusty backroad in the middle of nowhere when he heard a familiar voice call his name. It was faint, but he'd recognise those tones anywhere. Impossibly, Dean had survived. Cas tracked the faint cry to Lebanon and guessed that Dean had managed to find his way back to the Bunker. He closed his eyes, visualising the Bunker's main foyer, and suddenly he was there.

When he opened his eyes he spotted Dean kneeling on the floor. He was crying and a woman stood over him, her hand rubbing his back, whispering words of comfort into his hair. He cleared his throat and the woman spun. Her eyes widened at Cas's sudden appearance and she grabbed a gun off the table.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Cas said nothing. All his attention was focused on Dean, who was slowly standing up, his eyes fixated on Cas.

"Hello Dean." Cas inclined his head towards the man before him.

Mary moved to put herself between Cas and Dean. Without turning to look at him, she said to Dean, "Do you know this guy?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he breathed out. "This is Castiel. Cas, meet my mother."

Cas's eyes widened. It hadn't just been Dean to return from the dead that night then; somehow Mary Winchester had also been brought back. It didn't seem possible, only God could do things like that. Unless...

"Amara?" Cas asked.

Dean nodded. "She met with Chuck. Turns out a good old family reunion was just what they needed. They've gone up to God knows where to do a little quality bonding time and she brought my mom back in thanks."

Cas was still staring at Dean, trying to take in everything. He had believed he had never see him again and to have him standing in front of him now was more than Cas could ever have hoped for. Limited as Cas's understating of human emotions was, it was clear that Dean's mind was troubled.

"Dean? What's wrong?" Cas asked.

Dean looked down at the floor, then back up at Cas, fixing him with a piercing green-eyed stare. "Where's Sam, Cas? What happened here?"

It took a good hour to explain everything that had gone on since Dean's 'death' and with the end of the story also came the end of Dean's fourth beer. He was angrily pacing up and down the room whilst Cas and Mary watched him in anticipation.

"So you're telling me this British bitch comes in here, banishes you and makes off with Sam to who knows where? And we don't even know who she is?"

Cas nodded grimly. "Yes. I didn't get much of a look at her before she activated the sigil but I've never seen her before."

"How did she even know where to find us? I thought this place was hidden from everyone."

"I wish I knew." Cas shook his head sadly. "Do you know of any British women who might have a grudge against you?"

"No. Hell, I've only ever met about three British people in my life and I'm not even sure Crowley counts as a person. Mom? Do you know of anyone?"

Mary shook her head. "I'm sorry, Dean. I left the hunting life completely after I married John and I never knew anyone like that before."

Dean finally sat down and put his head in the hands. Cas felt the urge to go and comfort him but he was unsure of what to say. He searched for the right words for a moment before choosing perhaps the simplest of assurances.

"We will find Sam," he promised. "We'll bring him home."

Dean took a swig out of his new beer bottle. When he looked up, some of that old fire had rekindled in his eyes. "Damn straight."

A/N: Happy Supernatural Day! I hope you guys enjoyed that! Sorry it was solely a Supernatural chapter but I really wanted to put all this into this chapter and there isn't much on the Merlin storyline yet. But we will get back to it very soon. Please leave your thoughts and criticisms and I will update shortly. Bye!