THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT

[klada]

Mary slid into her car and slammed the door. She dropped her head to rest against the steering wheel and closed her eyes. She ran a hand through her hair as she focused on her breathing – in and out, in and out. This was beyond frustrating – another dead end! There had been a sad pattern to her travels lately: she found a possible lead, set after it with feverish excitement, and either found absolutely nothing, or the smallest sign that they had been there, but no longer were. Usually the evidence was some completed case or another.

As much as she hated it, Mary had to admit that they worked well as hunters.

This time, she had been almost certain that she had found the brothers. There had been information in the hunter grapevine that they were headed to the small Virginia town – possibly in search of vampires, but no one was sure – and there had been no other news. Of course, she didn’t expect to find them right off the bat, but Mary had checked out all the local hotels and motor inns and bed and breakfasts – because they had to sleep somewhere – and no one had heard anything about them. They were likely using alias’, which didn’t make her search any easier since she didn’t exactly know what they looked like grown either. She had extremely hazy memories of a grown Sam, from what she knew was when she was a ghost, but it was like some kind of abstract piece of art in her mind. He was tall, with long brown hair that needed serious cutting, but that was all she could remember.

She was always close, always so close.

She leaned back heavily in the seat of her VW Beetle, rolling her neck to get the stress-induced kink out of it. Her breath escaped in a long sigh and she rubbed at either side of her temples. She just had to start from scratch – again. She would see what information she could uncover, would hang around the small town for a little longer, and would set off again when she had something else almost-concrete. It was always almost.

Mary suddenly snapped straight in her seat, her eyes wide and her whole body tense as a familiar face turned the corner. But – he – he had been a hunter back in 1973 – that couldn’t be him walking down the street. Unless… Unless he was some sort of demon, hiding away in a body borrowed a long time ago. Her eyes narrowed. It wouldn’t be the first time that hunters were involved between two demons trying to off each other; just because the man had acted just like any other hunter should, and he had a sob story of revenge against the yellow-eyed-demon didn’t mean any of it had been true. He had been trying to kill the yellow-eyed-demon, and he had gotten her parents and John killed. It was his fault it had all happened that way, wasn’t it? If he hadn’t told them where the demon would be next… they might never have crossed paths.

Her parents wouldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t have made that deal to bring John back. Azazel wouldn’t have come for whatever he wanted with Sam. She wouldn’t have died.

It was his fault.

For a moment, her anger overwhelmed rational thought, and Mary slipped back out of her small car. She had nothing to kill a demon with, but that didn’t matter. She circled around her car, coming to the sidewalk, and watched as he turned another corner – and then she was off after him, keeping pace carefully, trying not to attract anyone else’s attention, much less his. He ended his journey near an extremely familiar car, parked away from the street where no one would see him (or them). Unfortunately, Mary was a tad bit too focused on him to notice just why the sleek black Impala was familiar – and a moment later she was on him, snagging his arms behind his back, hooking one of his feet with her own heel and pulling it out from under him, and forcing him to his knees with his head clipping the side of the door he had been about to open.

She readied herself for him to struggle – remembering the last time they had grappled, however briefly – and let out a harsh breath. “We meet again.”

While he knew that the Winchesters always seemed to have the worst luck ever, Dean couldn't believe how low they had fallen as of late. It had been three weeks since they'd first arrived in Mystic Falls and still they hadn't even managed so much as a single lead on where Castiel might be hiding. They were hunters, for heavens sake! Tracking down each and every one of those beings who went 'bump in the night' only to kill them were what both he and Sam had been raised to do and they hadn't even managed to pick up a whiff of the angel who had saved both their asses on countless occasions. That isn't to say that they hadn't returned the favor but it was generally a lot harder for humans to help an angel given that anything powerful enough to challenge a seraph was usually a little stronger that even the Winchester duo would have a hard time taking them out. Still, he had no intention of leaving Mystic Falls until they managed to locate Castiel - end of story.<br><br>

It just doesn't make sense, Dean thought to himself as he headed out of one of the Grill that now happened to be his new favorite eatery in this dump of a town, having told Sammy that he was heading on out to the car since his brother needed to stop by the men's room before they departed for the day. Cas has to know that we're here...angel hiding tattoos or not. I mean, hell, we've been asking around for him everywhere so someone's probably let him know that there are two guys around town asking if anyone's seen him. How many friends could Castiel possibly have apart from us that would match that decision. I'm betting none since he isn't really the type to make a lot of friends so why hasn't he contacted us yet?One thing the eldest Winchester knew was that something was up. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if part of the angel's distance wasn't because of what had happened in Purgatory. After all, it was his fault Cas hadn't made it out when he had; which he would never forgive himself for.<br><br>

So lost in his own thoughts was he, however, that Dean didn't even seem to notice that he was being followed. Of course, the fact that neither he and Sam had picked up on anything out of the ordinary so far in this town could be used as an excuse but, then again, he'd been in the business long enough that he should have known better than to let his guard down for even a single moment. Evil had a way of finding the Winchesters, no one knew that better than them - which only made it that much worse when he was ambushed from behind while digging in his pocket for the keys to the Impala. Caught off guard, his balance became compromised the minute his arms were locked behind his back - making it all to easy for his unseen attacker to drop him to his knees with a single kick that swept his fight right out from under him. The connection between his head and the door forced a hiss of pain from his lips as his vision blurred momentarily and he called out the one name which instinctively crossed his mind before any other did.<br><br>

"Sam!" he hollered as loud as he possibly could, forgetting in that moment where his brother was. "Sammy, get your ass over here!" It was only after the words passed his lips that he remembered that Sam was still back at the restaurant using the bathroom. Guess I'm on my own then. Quickly realizing that his brother couldn't hear him nor help him, Dean was already thinking up a counter strike when the all too familiar voice that spoke to him then wiped his mind completely clean of all coherent thoughts. Unable to believe it at first, it was only when he managed a glance in the rear view mirror on the side of the impala that he saw it was in fact none other than his mom, stopping any attempt at fighting back cold lest he possibly hurt her. Instead, he found himself at a complete loss of words and it was only after nearly a full minute that he was even able to manage a single questioning word in response to the obvious rage which he noted in her tone. "Mom?"






Although Sam was attempting to make sure that it wasn't obvious to Dean, he was starting to get frustrated with searching for Castiel as well. Sam hadn't expected the angel to want to be lost, hidden away from his Winchester friends. From his family. He was bewildered over why Cas would leave Dean's side in Purgatory and over who had decided to pull him out of the netherlands.

Although the Mystic Grill had proven to be a place where the entire population of teenagers hung around and gossiped, it hadn't proven anything for the location of their favorite angel. The brothers had finally given up and Sam told Dean he was going to go use the bathroom before they got back in the car. He couldn't be sure how long they were going to drive and it might be at the point where they decided to give up and exit the little town for a bigger town where Cas might be taking refuge.

Sam pushed open the rather questionable bathroom door open with his shoulder, edging in. He didn't understand why restaurants couldn't keep at least a reasonably clean bathroom. Then again, Sam had seen worse in the years he had spent hunting.

After scrubbing his hands with practically boiling water, Sam finally left the establishment and went to catch up with Dean. He could not help but feel as if they were running out of plans, choice and options on where to go next. Maybe they should just find a normal job somewhere, but Sammy didn't think Dean would want to let that fly. He was desperately stubborn in his quest to look for the missing angel and Sam wouldn't have been surprised if Dean had even tried to sell his soul to save Castiel, as he had done for him. But that was a remedy that both brothers knew just caused more problems than answers.

Sam was tall and those long legs offered him speed that shorter people didn't have, so he was already rather close to where they had parked the Impala when he heard Dean's shout of the nickname he insisted upon calling him, even though he was a twenty four year old grown man.

He jogged the rest of the way to the car and when he saw Dean's head slammed into the door of the car, Sam didn't stop to think. If he had waited long enough or heard Dean's softer statement, he might have stopped and recognized just who the golden hair belonged to. Love for his brother made him blind and in a knee jerk reaction, he made his own move to jerk the stranger away from his brother, but not without a struggle that would probably earn Sam a black eye and other assorted bruises for the both of them.

Of course, when his body slammed into the concrete was when he understood why Dean had barely put up a fight. He would have recognized that face anywhere. ProblemDean was in shock. Similar to having the wind knocked out of him, he couldn't even speak when he caught a glimpse of his attacker in the mirror which extended from the side of the Impala. It wasn't possible. The last time he had managed to lay eyes on the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman behind him (apart from when Castiel had sent him back into the past) had been when she had kissed him goodnight the night their home in Lawrence, Kansas had been burned to the ground by what he and Sam had later learned was a demon who they had hunted to the ends of the earth and exterminated. He didn't understand but, somehow, his own mother was back from the dead after nearly three full decades and was evidently trying to beat the crap out of him given that she'd successfully managed to pin him in a position that left him rather vulnerable. Well, the fact that he wouldn't dare fight back for fear of hurting him didn't exactly help any eiither. She couldn't know who he was though, so why on Earth would she choose to attack him out of all the people in this boring ass god forsaken town.<br><br>

It was only when Dean caught his mother's words to him that he remembered why she would recognize him more than Sam - or anyone else for that matter. He was the one that Castiel had chosen to send back in time in an attempt to ensure that his parents got together long before either of them had been born. Unfortunately, while that explained her reason for attacking him in the first place it did nothing to lessen his shock at seeing her here, in the present. He had no idea how to respond. How was this even possible? The only explanations he could think of were that she was either a demon of some sort or a ghost. But if she's a demon then why didn't she just kill me right away instead of bothering with trying to restrain me? he questioned silently, unable to figure it out. I know hell has to have one hell of a price on both mine and Sam's head, especially after the shit we pulled against Crowley who happens to be their leader. She can't be a ghost either, since they're incorporeal, so what the hell is going on? It didn't make the sense but, then again, what ever did?<br><br>

Torn from his thoughts when Mary hissed a question in response to the one he'd originally managed to utter as to her identity, Dean couldn't believe she hadn't yet managed to make the connection as to who he was herself. Even in the past, he'd managed to pass him off as her relative so the jump wasn't that big of one, was it? Maybe he was just overestimating her abilities of deduction, something that wasn't entirely impossible given that the amount of time she'd been dead obviously meant she'd been out of the hunting life for quite a while. Unfortunately, he didn't really have a chance to explain as the weight being applied to his hands suddenly disappeared as he caught sight of his brother in his peripheral vision less than a second before he rammed into their mother without thinking. "No Sam!!!" he yelled as he jumped up from the kneeling position he'd been forced into, well aware of his brother's tendency to attack first, ask questions later. It was one of the few traits they had in common because of the way they'd been raised. "Don't you dare hurt her or I swear on everything I love I'll kill you myself, you friggin' idiot!"<br><br>

Fully prepared to jump in and save their mom from Sam, it was only when his brother landed flat on his back less than a minute after engaging that Dean realized one thing they would certainly never have to worry about was Mary's ability to hold her own in a fight. He didn't get much of a chance to admire this fact, however, as Sam's measly attempt at an apology seemingly allowed their mom the perfect opportunity to launch into a question rampage. Figuring that it was his place to explain given that he was obvious the intended victim of her attack, he waited until she stopped before stepping forward to draw her attention to him. "That," he began, pausing long enough to gesture to his brother with a nod, "is Sam Winchester - your second son who Azazel visited the night you gave him permission to enter your house in return for bringing John back to life...and he's my kid brother. Not bothering to introduce himself as he figured even she couldn't be stupid enough to miss that leap, Dean jumped right into her nezt question. "As for how I was there in 1973...that might take longer to explain. Do you want to come back to our motel room and we can talk there?" was, he couldn't find the words to articulate that when he realized it. The same reaction that had come over him back in the eighties came over him now, and his throat closed up while he struggled to find the words.

"It's not what you think."


Mary was prepared for him to fight back – and was extremely surprised when he didn’t. Unless he was playing with her, which she could have expected from a demon. He had, after all, played the role of a hunter last time they had met, and he had easily gotten under her whole family’s guard then. He could be trying to do the same – especially as she caught his eyes in the car’s side mirror and they widened with recognition. So he was who she thought. Thank God she wasn’t just paranoid out of her mind and attacking a stranger who just so happened to look like the guy. His immediate cries for help had very briefly made her think that – but it was the whispered, unbelieving word that slipped from his mouth next that shot down her guard.

“What?” She all but hissed the word, every bit of her own surprise and disbelief packed into that one word. Mom? That was impossible – he had been there in 1973. He hardly looked much older than that. He couldn’t possibly be – that was it: he was playing mind games with her. Maybe somehow he had found out she was searching for her sons, and he was using that knowledge against her to disarm her.

Unfortunately, even if that wasn’t the truth, that was exactly what it had done.

So when Sam all but tore her away from Dean, it took her a moment to react. Then the fighting instincts kicked in, and Mary didn’t waste any time trying to identify her attacker – just as Sam hadn’t wasted time trying to figure out who had assaulted his brother. Instead, she twisted out of his hands, and the two of them grappled, rather evenly matched, actually. He undoubtedly had the size and strength advantage, but after being raised fighting supernatural creatures, that wasn’t really anything new. And Mary had a bit more experience than Sam did. He and Dean had been raised by a revenge-obsessed father, whereas Mary had had an entire family of hunters around her – up until she left. So even with his more obvious advantages, their scuffle ended with Sam flat on his back on the concrete.

She was still breathing rather heavily though, as she stood looking down at him, ready for him to leap up and attack again – even if the immediate danger had apparently passed. Mary wasn’t letting herself get caught by surprise again.

Her eyes narrowed sharply when he spoke. “Then who the hell are you, and how the hell was he –” she flung a hand in Dean’s direction, still over by the car “– there forty years ago and has hardly aged a day?” She didn’t elaborate on where “there” meant – she was a little too worked up to repeat information that he must already know, since he had been there. And, of course, Dean had probably aged quite a bit since his visit to the past – with the hell he and Sam had both been through (literally, at some points) – but the expression still rang true. He certainly hadn’t aged forty years, that was for sure.


No one could deny that all of the currently living Winchesters had a lot to take in at the moment. The two younger men doubtlessly took it better than their mother – after all, this wasn’t the first time they had come face to face with their long-dead mother. They had quite the experience with the stranger sides of the supernatural business, so even if this was far from expected, both could react far faster than Mary could. After all, she had spent so long as a ghost reliving all of the darker points in her life that she had utterly convinced herself that Dean was (at least partially) at fault for her parent’s death and the deal she had been coerced into making with Yellow Eyes to save her to-be husband. It was true that she had spent even longer blaming herself for that, and for the lives she had unwittingly sentenced her sons to – but that self-loathing had little to do with her sons themselves.

So as the realization that Sam and Dean were right here in front of her – and that she had attacked Dean thinking he was a demon or some other horrible creature – was a little hard for her to wrap her head around. It gave her significant pause, though, when Dean stepped forward and started speaking. Azazel’s name clicked in her mind with Yellow Eyes in a way that felt obvious – as did the rest of Dean’s minor explanation.

Still, when he avoided (for now) her second question, the suspicion and distrust flared in her eyes again. Her eyes snapped back toward the prone form of Sam as he moved – still very much on edge – and zeroed in on the tattoo he had moved to show her. It didn’t take a genius to realize the implications of that – the anti-possession seal imprinted on his skin. Especially when the knowledge of that (possibly started with Sam and Dean themselves) had spread through the hunter community – and Mary had seen the logic and efficiency of that enough to get a (small) one herself, although it was far less obvious than the brothers’ tattoos by their collar bones.

Mary didn’t answer right away. She forced her body to relax, though, and took a long breath in through her nose, her mind working.

There was an intense, almost irresistible urge to just believe Dean. To take her sons into her arms, to never let them go again. But Mary had been burned far too often in her life by giving into things like that – and it would be enormously stupid and reckless for her to give in so easily. Unfortunately, she couldn’t exactly hide the sentiment from her face.

“Give me the shorthand answer then,” she finally replied, voice curt and even, eyes level as she caught Dean’s. “If it’s believable, I’ll come with you.”


No one could deny that all of the currently living Winchesters had a lot to take in at the moment. The two younger men doubtlessly took it better than their mother – after all, this wasn’t the first time they had come face to face with their long-dead mother. They had quite the experience with the stranger sides of the supernatural business, so even if this was far from expected, both could react far faster than Mary could. After all, she had spent so long as a ghost reliving all of the darker points in her life that she had utterly convinced herself that Dean was (at least partially) at fault for her parent’s death and the deal she had been coerced into making with Yellow Eyes to save her to-be husband. It was true that she had spent even longer blaming herself for that, and for the lives she had unwittingly sentenced her sons to – but that self-loathing had little to do with her sons themselves.

So as the realization that Sam and Dean were right here in front of her – and that she had attacked Dean thinking he was a demon or some other horrible creature – was a little hard for her to wrap her head around. It gave her significant pause, though, when Dean stepped forward and started speaking. Azazel’s name clicked in her mind with Yellow Eyes in a way that felt obvious – as did the rest of Dean’s minor explanation.

Still, when he avoided (for now) her second question, the suspicion and distrust flared in her eyes again. Her eyes snapped back toward the prone form of Sam as he moved – still very much on edge – and zeroed in on the tattoo he had moved to show her. It didn’t take a genius to realize the implications of that – the anti-possession seal imprinted on his skin. Especially when the knowledge of that (possibly started with Sam and Dean themselves) had spread through the hunter community – and Mary had seen the logic and efficiency of that enough to get a (small) one herself, although it was far less obvious than the brothers’ tattoos by their collar bones.

Mary didn’t answer right away. She forced her body to relax, though, and took a long breath in through her nose, her mind working.

There was an intense, almost irresistible urge to just believe Dean. To take her sons into her arms, to never let them go again. But Mary had been burned far too often in her life by giving into things like that – and it would be enormously stupid and reckless for her to give in so easily. Unfortunately, she couldn’t exactly hide the sentiment from her face.

“Give me the shorthand answer then,” she finally replied, voice curt and even, eyes level as she caught Dean’s. “If it’s believable, I’ll come with you.”


Blinking a few times, Sam desperately tries to hold back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He hadn't heard much of his mother over the years. Dean and John both preferred not to talk about the woman that they lost and forgetting that even though Sam didn't have any memories of her, he had lost her as well. He had accepted sleeping in hotel rooms as a way of life until he was old enough to go to school and go over to friends house's on occasion, and discovered that the average America did not move from town to town like a nomad as he did. All of that was because of the mother his brother and father had kept their lips tightly shut about. Perhaps that was why Sam was angry in his adult life and possessed an unfair amount of rage at anything that he could direct it on.

Even though his body had slammed into the concrete, there was a brief moment when he was looking up at Mary Winchester that he realized he wasn't angry. Dean's words had slipped in one ear and out the other (for the moment) and all of the drive and fire and charcoal had emptied out of him with the air that was forced out of his chest. When was the last time he hadn't been angry? Not since Jessica had died, he figured.

Sam was struggling to answer had opened his mouth and fumbled over the words pathetically when Dean answered for him. While Sam was normally the empathetic Winchester, this was one of those rare moments where he actually wasn't even capable of saying his own name. That was until the words that Dean had said to him had finally sunk in and Sam was starting to boil over at the idea that Dean was upset because Sam had saved his life.

"I was trying to save your life," He mumbled, and right after it left his mouth Sam hoped that his brother wouldn't hear it.

Sam knew that was not a great conversation to start right at this moment, there was enough the three of them were going to have to think about. It was too bad that Micheal had wiped the minds of their parents in the eighties, then they wouldn't have to explain in depth. There was things they had been through that Sam would have preferred his mother not to know, particularly his addiction to demon blood and the time he slept with a demon. And the hallucinations. At the thought Sam reflexively tightened his hand on itself, although there was no longer an open wound. It was a habit that he couldn't get to go away and it would always be a part of him.

Without a word, Sam pulled back his shirt to reveal the anti possession tattoo that both he and Dean had gotten. He didn't want to explain it, figuring the tattoo on his skin would be enough proof.