It Should Be Easy
Sam watches them quietly from across the table, beer bottle loosely grasped between his fingers. Dean and his mom share a memory Sam doesn't remember. He watches Mary and searches her expression as she smiles at something his brother says - face ignited, dimples showing as she laughs.
It looks so effortless watching the two of them - connecting, remembering, talking. It should be easy. Right? She's his mom, after all. She's his mom, and yet-
Mary is practically a stranger to Sam. He knows too little about her to know exactly where they stand with each other. He's afraid. Afraid of messing up with her. Of disappointing her.
God knows Sam had disappointed people in the past enough to last lifetimes - even when he tried to do good - even when he was so sure he was doing the right thing.
Sam recalls all too well all the times he's let Dean down. His brain likes to put his worst mistakes on a loop whenever he's had too little sleep, his defenses down. And Dad, Sam remembers him too, late at night, his demons pushing at the dark corners of his mind. He's sure John was disappointed in him for leaving for college, the harsh words they exchanged that night still seared into his mind (and all the times before that whenever you stood up to the man, full of righteous anger, passion burning, his mind whispers). And later, in that hospital bed, John gave Dean the order to kill him if he was past saving. And how close had Sam gotten to the edge of losing his humanity? In his dreams, Sam still can taste the metallic taste of the demon blood on his tongue, and feel the sickening flow of power through his veins, rage burning hot. He always wakes up drenched in sweat, his teeth rattling, with bitter bile at the back of his throat, and his stomach in knots.
Sam shifts awkwardly in his seat and suddenly stands up, chair screeching across the floor, announcing he's going to bed. Sam's tired, and Lucifer doesn't stop his taunting tonight, leaving fiery trails of blood and bone in his wake as Sam wanders through the dim hallways to his room.
000
He notices, of course. Dean and Mary play this mobile word game. And they do it without him. It's a stupid little thing, but it hurts. It's yet another thing they share, and Sam's hovering on the outside, only allowed to look in through the shaded glass. Dean would probably let him join if he asks, but Sam has the feeling that Dean wants to leave this as a thing between the two of them: mother and son. And yeah, that's only fair. Sam would never begrudge Dean something like that - something seemingly so small and simple, and yet-
So Sam doesn't ask, but he's been searching for old crossword puzzle books from the 80s. It's a good distraction when sleep's impossible, Lucifer whispering promises into his ear, chilly fingers outlining all the places where Toni touched him. He found some on some aged webshop. Sam wants to ask her if she wants to solve them with him. It could be fun, late at night when sleep evades the both of them, with some hot tea to go with it. But he doesn't dare to ask. Not yet. Because what if she says no? Sam doesn't want to make Mary feel awkward by having to decline his offer.
It's the same reason he doesn't ask Mary to accompany him on his trips to the supermarket.
000
"Dude," Dean says as he drops down into a chair next to Sam. "What's the matter with you?"
"What?" Sam looks up from the book he'd been immersed in till a moment ago.
"You look like a nervous teenager on his first day on the job when you're around Mom." He waves his hands around in some all-encompassing gesture. "I mean. I get it, but it's Mom, Sam."
"I know," Sam replies softly. "I know, it's Mom, but-" He stops.
"What, Sam." Dean patiently waits on Sam to say whatever's eating him. Dean has been on a high since their mom got back into their lives. Starstruck and giddy. And while Sam shares his brother's excitement, it's just- It's different for Sam. And it's only natural that Dean's not fully catching on to what Sam is struggling with. Mary is still a stranger to Sam, after all. Even after their several, somewhat clumsy conversations and that one hug Sam had all but melted into, his brain yelling Mom, Mom, Mom!
"I'm just-" Sam swallows, trying to get the words out that are floundering in his brain in chaos. "I'm afraid." The words rush out, a painful truth finally in the open.
A few seconds of Sam's heart beating quickly against his ribcage, the nerves making his fingers tingle, his throat tight.
"What are you afraid of, Sam?" With attentive and quiet words, Dean's focus is all on him, and suddenly Sam feels too hot in his thin cotton shirt.
"I'm afraid Mom will be disappointed in me." The words hurt, but they are the simple truth. And Sam suspects he's not the only one who's afraid. The look in Mary's eyes, when she thinks Sam's not watching, says it all. They haven't talked yet about the deal she made, the two of them, spinning around each other, desiring to take the first step but so afraid of messing up. And Sam wants to tell her: "it's alright" and "I understand" and pull her into another of those warm hugs.
"Look." He turns toward his brother, looking Dean in the eye despite his wish to look away (to hide - hide away from his own shortcomings). "Mom and you have a past. Four years is maybe not all that much, but to me- Mom doesn't know me, Dean. We are basically strangers." Sam's shoulders fall, he's tired.
"Sammy..." Dean shifts closer, and Sam closes his eyes.
000
Cold fingers on his skin that don't belong there, and he knows it's all wrong, wrong, wrong, and yet- the touching, caressing, so kind, so gentle, so familiar- Sam wakes with a scream on his lips, and his heart in his throat and he has only time to roll to the side of the bed before he throws up.
The nightmare has left him jittery. He's feeling too big for his own body, skin pulled too tight across his bones. Sam shuffles into the kitchen at 2 AM. He's trying to get water to boil for tea when he hears a sound behind him and turns around, his heart beating a tad too fast. Because this is the bunker. Sam's safe as can be and-
Mary is in the doorway, clad in faded jeans and an old shirt, her pale fingers cradling a mug. She glances at him. Uncertain. Uneasy.
Sam knows what he must look like. Still sniffy and a little wild-eyed.
At first, Mary wants to slink back into the shady hall behind her, but then her eyes narrow, really taking in the figure standing before her - her son. Her instinct to soothe Sam overrides her own comfort. It doesn't matter how she feels at the moment, Sam's in pain. Her eyes search her son's face. Sam must have been crying. And something in Mary's chest aches profoundly at that notion.
They stare at each other for a few moments, only the gentle bubbling of the boiling water on the stove breaking the silence that has descended over them. "Want to do crossword puzzles together?" Sam asks suddenly. He gives her a small and tentative smile that does not reach his eyes. "I'm boiling water for tea."
The tension in the air mounts. Then Mary relaxes, her shoulders dropping an inch as she breathes out. She smiles warmly at the man in front of her - her youngest son she still has to learn so much about. I cannot keep running away. "Yeah. Yeah, I would like that."
I wrote this because there's this one scene with May and Dean playing a mobile game together, and Sam looks just so sad because he's left out.
How the show handled Mary's return is high on my list of things that disappointed me. Mary never made a real effort to understand her sons. And despite Dean having some really beautiful scenes with Mary where he tells her how he really feels, we never got a scene where Mary and Sam talk about the deal she made. I always felt that Sam was left behind in connecting with Mary.