Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mary: “I am your mother, but I am more than ‘just a mom.’ And you are not a child.”
Dean: “I never was. So between us and them –”
Mary: “It’s not like that.”
Dean: “Yeah, Mary, it is. And you made your choice. So there’s the door.” (Dean leaves the room. After a beat, Sam stands.)
Mary: “Sam…”
Sam: “You should go.”

"Sammy, please," Mary begged when her younger son turned his back on her.

"Dean’s the only one who gets to call me that,” Sam replied softly. “You don't understand," he said as he turned back to look at his mother. "How could you? You didn't stick around long enough to get to know us. You just jumped right back into hunting – that occupation you said you were so ready to be done with."

"I know you're upset, but try to see things from my perspective."

“How about you try to see things from ours? When I was a kid, all I had was my father and my brother. When dad started hunting full time, Dean was all I had. He's the one who fed and bathed me. He's the one who taught me how to walk, to read, count, get dressed, tie my shoes. He taught me how to swim and ride a bike. If I got hurt, he was there with a bandage and to kiss my booboo better. If I got picked on, he was there to protect me. He made sure I had enough to eat when I know there were days he went hungry. He made sure I always had decent clothes to wear even when he didn't. Dean did everything for me and I know I didn't appreciate it enough. I didn't appreciate him enough. Do you know who did those things for my brother? Who taught him how to stretch a dollar or how to make 100 different types of boxed mac and cheese so he wouldn't have to listen to complaints about always having the same food? Do you know who made sure he took his vitamins and brushed his teeth and ate his vegetables?"

"I guess your dad did," Mary answered, a questioning tone to her voice.

"No one did. Dad was never around and even when he was – he was either lost in his head or in a bottle. Dean raised himself from the age of four and he raised me. I am all he's ever had. When he said Amara told him she was going to give him what he needed most, I thought 'Finally. He'll have someone to take care of him for once.' Instead, all he got was another self-absorbed, absentee parent who cares more about hunting than their own children." Sam took a breath and moved away from the table. "My brother sold his soul to save my life and he was tortured in hell for it. He has made deals with demons and angels, hell even Death itself to protect me. And I've abandoned him over and over. I tried to push him away so maybe he'd start living for himself for a change. But it never lasted long. I always came back because I knew no matter how much I hurt him, he'd always be there for me. Dean cares more about me than he does himself. Dad's number one order? 'Watch out for Sammy.' He will always do everything in his power to take care of me, to protect me, even if he’s half a world away. I just wish he'd let me do the same for him."

“Sam," Mary said firmly as she moved toward her son, tears in her eyes listening to everything her boys had endured.

Sam held up his hand to stop her. "You're my mother and I love you, even if I don't like you right now. But I'm not going to let you hurt my brother anymore. Dean never got to be a kid, just like you never really got to be a mother. But you need to decide what you want from us. You can choose to open up and let us in, get to know us. Or you can continue to work with an organization who had no compunction about shooting innocent men, abducting me from my home and torturing me. Dean will never trust the Brits. He will never forgive them. And as long as you're with them, he'll never forgive or trust you either.

"Now," the youngest Winchester said, clearing his throat. "I believe my brother asked you to get out of our home. You're not welcome here right now," he said before turning his back on his mother once more and going to look for his brother. It took Mary several minutes before she could get her numb legs to work and take her away from the bunker – away from her family.