‘Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t care about us at all, mom.’ Dean green eyes scanned his mother like lasers, trying to understand this woman who was his mother. ’Seems you can’t wait for any excuse to get out that door and as far from us as possible. You show more concern for any of the other-worlders than for me or Sam.’
Mary turned away. The words were harsh, but she couldn’t brush them off because they were mostly true.
However, Dean was owed an answer. He deserved that at least.
‘It’s not been easy for me, Dean.’
She tried to school her face into the most empathic expression possible. ‘I know you and Sam are my sons, but we’ve never had the chance to build our relationship, to bond as would've happened if things had been normal. You’re grown men, hardened hunters. You don’t need me, whereas others do.
It’s too late for me to play mom. I want my second chance at life to mean something, and for me right now, that’s hunting.’
‘Wow, you don’t beat about the bush, do you…..Mary! No wonder you got on so great with Ketch. Two peas in a pod, though I think I’m being a little harsh on poor Ketch.
And to think our lives, mine, Sam’s and Dad’s were ruined because of you. The ‘hardened hunters’ we are now is your legacy.’
Mary remained stoic. As she’d told Dean, he and Sam were her sons, but in the here and now, they counted no more and no less than Bobby or Maggie or Jack. She’d tried to feel motherly love for her sons but the sentiment just wasn’t there.
She picked up the duffle from the table. ‘I know this is painful, and I wish there had been an easier way, but I’m glad we’ve cleared the air, Dean.
I don’t know when we’ll meet up again, but if you need anything, you’ve got my number.’
With that she made for the stairs.
Dean’s eyes followed her until the door swung closed, then he slumped boneless onto the nearest chair.
‘Dean.’ Sam’s soft voice cut through his pain, the hand on his shoulder offering comfort.
‘You were listening? You heard?’
‘I was on my way in, but I held back. There was no point in adding me to the mix.’
When Dean passed a hand over his eyes, Sam tilted up his brother’s head. ‘She’s not worth the tears, Dean.’
‘She’s our mom….Sammy’
‘Yeah, she is, but it’s not what she wants to be right now.‘
’You’re not going to defend her, after what she said, Sam?’
‘No. She hurt you, and anyone who does, even if it’s our mom, deserves nothing but contempt.’
Sam bent over his sibling, his long body an armour, protecting Dean from the world, from the mom who is their mom but doesn’t want to be.
He pulled Dean to his feet, wound his arms around him, held him close, their bodies fitting seamlessly against each other.
‘We don’t need her, Dean. We’ve got each other. We always will. I’ll never leave you, never stop loving you.’
Dean burrowed into Sam’s chest; he couldn’t stop the tears despite himself.
Sam held onto his brother, waited until he got it all out--- until his emotions had worn him down.
‘Come on. Let’s go to bed.’
‘I’m not in the mood for sex, Sam.’
‘Who said anything about sex? We’re gonna cuddle up and sleep. And when you wake, we’re taking a road trip, you, me and the Impala. Destination unknown, and I promise not to bitch about your music. How does that sound?’
‘Sounds good,’ Dean replied as he alowed himself be led like a small child through the corridors to Sam’s bedroom.