"Get out! Everyone just get the hell out!" Sam yelled, practically screamed to be heard over the cacophony of everyone else in the room arguing. The room went dead silent, no one even daring to breathe.

Dean was in shock. He had no idea what he'd been expecting Sam's reaction to seeing Mom would be, but it definitely wasn't this. "Sam, what-"

"GET OUT."

Castiel, Dean, and Mary exited the room fast as their legs could carry them, Sam refusing to even look in Mary's general direction. "Me too?" Dean muttered to himself. Sam slammed the door behind them hard enough that it shifted on its hinges, and locked it. "Hey wait, that's my room!" Dean whined.

"That did not go well," Cas stated.

"No shit Sherlock," Dean groaned. "I thought you were keeping an eye her?"

"No one needs to keep an eye on me," Mary scowled. "…But I suppose that could have been handled better. I'm sorry, I just… I wanted to meet him so bad, I couldn't help myself. It was selfish."

"You're right. Dumping it on him probably wasn't the best idea, but what's done is done." He laid a hand on Mary's shoulder. "Don't worry, he'll come around. He's just really, really confused right now, as he should be. I'll talk to him."

Sam didn't leave the room for two days.

Dean reasoned, pleaded, begged, yelled, and damn near kicked down the door, but Sam refused to say anything. He brought three square meals a day and left them outside the door, and more often than not they just sat there, but occasionally Dean would come back and the plate of food would be gone. He didn't know how Sam did it, considering he was camped outside Sam's (his!) bedroom door as much as physically possible. Sneaky bastard.

"This isn't all an elaborate plot for me to bring you food in bed, is it?" Dean grumbled as he set a hot plate of parmesan-crusted baked chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy on the floor directly in front of the door, sitting down next to it. "You know, you need to eat more. You're eating for two now, Sammy."

Silence.

"Nice talk."

Then finally, an hour later, in the smallest of whispers that was barely audible through the door.

"How?"

Dean breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, silently thanking Chuck. He'd seriously been a few hours away from breaking down the damn door.

"Amara. When I managed to get her and Chuck to talk out their differences, she was… thankful. Told me that since I gave her what she needed, she'd give me what I needed. Apparently that was…Mom."

"So what? She brought her back, just like that? After all these years, she's back?"

"Guess so, kiddo." Dean waited, letting Sam take it all in. He couldn't imagine what was going through his brother's mind. It was probably chaos. Not that he could blame him. His own head was still spinning, dammit. In the space of a few weeks, he'd gone from being resigned to die for the greater good, found out Sam was fucking pregnant, to Amara and Chuck going on vacation, his mother was back from the dead after over thirty years, and Sam was kidnapped.

"You know, it's uh," Dean cleared his throat, "It's okay to be confused right now. You don't have to have all the answers. I get it. Heck, I'm still not even sure how I, how I feel about her being back. But why don't you start by just… talking to her? Just a little?"

"…I don't know how. And what if-"

"What is it, little brother? You know you can tell me."

"What if she doesn't like me?" Sam said in a small voice, sounding so much like the little kid Dean raised it hurt. Only his little brother would be afraid his own mother wouldn't like him.

"Sammy, can I come in please?"

There was no answer, and Dean was five seconds away from kicking that damn door down, when he heard the lock turn. He tried opening the door again, and this time it finally opened.

Sam was curled up in a ball in a corner of Dean's bed, as if he were trying to make himself small. Again, Dean as reminded of Sam as a child, all tiny and dimpled cheeks. Dean climbed onto the bed, curling up behind Sam, relieved when Sam leaned into his body.

"She loves you Sammy, more than anything," Dean whispered, kissing the back of Sam's neck. "She'd do anything for you. She went with us to help take down those British sons of bitches. She could never, ever, hate you, or hold anything against you, or blame you or anything you're thinking right now. She wants to meet you, again, okay? Why don't we get to know her, together?"

"Together? You mean it?" Sam rolled over, facing Dean, their noses bumping together as they breathed the same air.

"Of course, little brother."

Their lips touched, and Sam could already feel the warmth curling low in his belly. It had been so long since…

A knock on the door, "Boys? Can I come in? I want to talk to you, if that's alright?"

Dean shoved Sam away and shot up off the bed like his life depended on it, standing as far away from Sam as physically possible while still being in the room.

Sam was too shocked to say anything.

Mary entered the room, a warm smile on her face that immediately made Sam want to let down his guard.

But.

"I was just wondering… um, are you guys hungry? Do you want some dinner? I was thinking… we could all eat together?"

Dean smiled back. "Yeah, sure that sounds go-"

"I'm not hungry," Sam mumbled, turning so he wasn't facing Mary.

"You need to eat, Sam, it's not just about you anymore," Dean snapped.

"I said I'm not hungry."

"What do you mean, it's not just about him anymore?" Mary interjected, genuinely curious tone in her voice. Sam could feel her eyes on him, and he didn't know how to feel about it.

"Sam's pregnant, so he should be eating for two," and great, now Sam could feel Dean glaring holes in the back of his head. He ignored the irritation at having Dean answer for him and stayed silent, morbidly curious to what Mary's reaction would be.

"Oh, that's wonderful! Congratulations, " Mary laughed, and Sam could hear the genuine joy in it. She doesn't even know me, how can she be so happy for the child of someone she doesn't even know?, he thought.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't respond.

"Well, I guess, I'll, uh, go cook something," Mary said quietly, and walked out of the room, Dean following.

Sam didn't say a single word.

Over the course of the next month Sam got off his ass and started eating right, and even got himself a baby doctor. His first appointment was in a couple days.

Dean still refused to touch him, instead preferring to spend all his time with Mary.

Sam still had yet to really speak to her. He just. Didn't know how. Dean has said they'd get to know her, together, but he seemed to be doing fine all on his own.

It wasn't for lack of Mary's trying. She'd make all of Sam's favorite foods (that she learned from Dean), but Sam rarely made an appearance at the dinner table.

She didn't love him, she loved the baby she'd held in her arms over thirty years ago.

The night before Sam's first appointment, Sam decided to suck it up and eat dinner with everyone else. He wanted to ask Dean if he'd go to the appointment with him tomorrow, and since Dean was wherever Mary was, he didn't have much of a choice. He was going to get an ultrasound. They were finally going to see their baby, and little butterflies had taken up residency in Sam's stomach along with the Baby.

Maybe seeing the Baby would give Dean the push he needed to start taking this seriously.

Mary made a chicken salad, and when it came time to eat, Sam made sure he was as far away from her as possible, while did the exact opposite and sat next to her. Still, throughout the dinner (which was fucking delicious), he couldn't stop himself from glancing at her every five seconds as her and Dean talked about something or other. He was aware he was staring, but thankful Mary hadn't seemed to notice, too wrapped up in her conversation with Dean.

She really was beautiful.

Her eyes were so kind, and so green; he could see where Dean had gotten them from.

For the first time Sam found himself wanting to say… something to her, but the words kept getting caught in his throat. What do you say to your dead mother who'd suddenly been brought back to life? Before he knew it the meal was almost over and everyone was scraping the plate.

"So, Dean, um," shit, he hadn't been planning to ask him like this, "I, uh have a doctor appointment tomorrow. For the baby. They're going to do an ultrasound. So, I was, I was wondering, if you. Wanted. To. Come. With me. If you wanted."

Sam wanted to crawl in a hole and die. This was Dean, why the fuck was he so nervous?

Face bright red, he risked glancing at his brother. He could feel Mary's eyes on him too, but continued looking at Dean. For a moment, he could see the want in Dean's eyes. But it was gone as soon as it appeared, covered up with bravado.

"Sam, I can't stand going to the doctor on a good day when it's my appointment. Why would I want to go to yours? No thanks."

"Yeah, you're right," Sam mumbled, pushing his plate away and getting out of there as fast he could.

He didn't hear Mary yell at Dean in confusion, "What the hell is wrong with you?"