SPN coda 12.13--For Obvious Reasons
Title: For Obvious Reasons
Author:
borgmama1of5
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 1025
Genre: Gen
Spoilers: Through 12.13 'Family Feud’
Disclaimer: Sadly, Supernatural belongs to Kripke & co. I would take much better care of them…
Summary: Mary drops a bombshell about what she's been doing
"I have sort of been working with the British Men of Letters."
It feels like his mother just punched him in the stomach. Sam struggles to not let the hurt show in his face.
What the fuck?
Hadn't she seen what they'd done to him? He stutters out, "We, um, we have a history with them."
He hardly hears her defense, disconnectedly watches Mary focus on Dean's reaction: "Don't give that face." Part of Sam appreciates that Dean is angry on Sam's behalf, but another part is even angrier that his mother is paying more attention to Dean's reaction than his.
He can’t stay silent. “Mom, we have our own toolkit, and it works just fine. And for obvious reasons -- broken ribs and burnt feet …” The memory of searing pain ghosts over his skin, “… we don't trust the Brits.”
He can’t believe she doesn’t get it. She looks down, won’t meet his eyes. Dean challenges her, “So where does that leave us?”
“Same as always. Family. Just hear me out, please.”
Sam can’t. He listens as Mary explains what she’s done over the last several weeks, describes the weapons and intel the Brits have supplied her, how many monsters she’s put down. As she rationalizes, he has an unsettling recollection of himself justifying to Dean how demon blood was making exorcising demons so much easier … and he realizes he’s zoned out of the one-sided conversation when his mother says his name.
“… try, Sam?”
He doesn’t really care what she’s asking for, he knows he can’t go along. He doesn’t trust his voice, though, so he simply shakes his head.
The hollowness inside him is momentarily reduced as Dean drops his hand on Sam’s shoulder and lightly presses down.
“We’re not working with those bastards. Period. Not after what they did to Sam.” There is no compromise in Dean’s stony voice, and Sam thinks the only thing keeping him tethered at the moment is his brother’s touch.
“They said that she …”
“They said! Like you can trust one fucking word out of their mouths!” Sam can tell how furious Dean is because his brother has skipped yelling, his voice is simply ice cold.
“But they did help - when Castiel and I had to find you in Colorado - there’s no way we would have found you on our own …”
“No, Mom. Any help they’re giving comes with a price tag they haven’t shown you yet.”
Dean takes his hand away, crosses his arms tightly across his chest. Sam closes his eyes, missing the support, opens them at the extended silence. Mary is looking at him as if she expects him to take her side.
Ketch did help them - had given them the device to eject Lucifer from his vessel - but Sam still can’t bring himself to agree with his mother. It wasn’t just the physical torture from Lady Toni … he hadn’t told Dean about how she’d fucked with his head.
“No,” he manages a rough croak.
Mary’s lips clench and Sam sees the Winchester - or maybe it’s Campbell - stubbornness in her posture.
“I get that you have some issues, I did too, at first, and I’m sorry you won’t give them - give me - a chance to show you different.” She pauses, but when neither Dean nor Sam responds, she continues. “I’m gonna go now, if you change your mind, you know how to get hold of me.”
She looks at them with frustration but as Sam thinks where does she get off being pissed at them Mary turns away.
“Enjoy the burgers,” she tosses over her shoulder over the sound of her boots clicking up the stairs.
“Not hungry,” Dean mutters under his breath.
The bunker door slams.
Sam feels the instant Dean’s anger changes to hurt as Dean sags, then drops into the chair next to Sam and rubs a hand over his face.
“How could she do that?”
Something compels Sam to speak in her defense. “They did help with Lucifer, Dean …”
Dean gives Sam a disbelieving look. “You can’t be saying we should work with those assholes.”
“No, no, I’m not saying that. Every time I hear the words ‘British Men of Letters’ my skin crawls. They say that woman was a rogue agent … but I don’t know, I’m not convinced someone hadn’t given her free rein, she was so damn cocky … I’m just saying, I could see how …” Sam swallows, “how … Mom could get taken in …”
“She’s a hunter. She’s supposed to be able to see what’s in front of her. And she’s our mother, Sam, how can she possibly think it’s okay to work with them after she - she saw you in that basement, saw how they’d worked you over! If we didn’t have Cas with his mojo, you’d be crippled from what they’d done to you!”
Taking a deep breath, Sam reaches over the table for the beers Mary had left and hands one to Dean before taking his own. There’s no way he can eat now, though, the burgers are going to go to waste.
There’s a pit inside him where he realizes the idea that his mother would be with Dean and him as a real family had been a futile fantasy. It didn’t matter that he’d tried to give her time, tried to understand how hard it was for her to be thrown back into the world and into a life so diametrically opposite of what she’d had … it isn’t enough for her. He isn’t, Dean isn’t what she wants … needs …
And if it is hurting him so much, how much harder is Dean taking it?
“You okay?”
Dean empties his bottle before he answers.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” Sam knows Dean isn’t, but nods acceptance of the lie anyway.
“You?”
“Yeah, I’m okay too, Dean.” Sam knows Dean sees through his answer just as easily, knows they’re both going to pretend it doesn’t matter that their mother is choosing the men that hurt him - them over her sons.
He thinks they should know by now that blood doesn’t automatically mean family.
AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9935654