Mary grits her teeth.

“Get out of my son,” she says.

“Our son, Mary.”

“My son!” She yells, a little surprised by how loud her voice is. “My son, my boy!”

John scoffs. “Oh, come off it, Mary.” He taps his temple. “I’m in his head, remember? I know what he knows. And what he knows is that you don’t have a particular inclination towards motherhood. He’s not your boy! You never wanted him! You wanted a kid who’d never become a hunter, who’d grow up into a nice normal boy. Instead you got this, an alcoholic in his late thirties who’s so warped that all he knows how to do is kill and drink.”

“That’s not who he is.” Mary takes a step towards him. “You know what I wanted, John? I wanted a husband that I could trust to take care of our children when I was gone. They won’t tell me half the shit you put them through, John! You want to talk about warped, they have some, some warped fucking idea that they have to preserve your image for me but things slip through the cracks. I hear things.”

“I took care of them just fine.”

“Yeah? You wanna know something?” Mary takes another step towards him. “Sam talks about his childhood with Dean far more than he ever talks about it with you. Dean taught him to swim. Dean taught him to ride a bike. Dean taught him to tie his shoelaces. Where were you, John? What were you doing when our eldest son was raising his brother?”

“I was trying to protect them!”

“No, you weren’t,” she screams, something vicious and furious unlocking in her. “You were on your own fucking quest, your own bitter and violent crusade, and you neglected our boys, they didn’t have a father, and that’s your fault!”

“You think you’re that much better than me, Mary? You know goddamn well that we had Sam because we thought it would save the marriage, you think that’s a good position to put him in? And then you come back, and you can barely even look at them. Cause Dean-“ John raises a hand to gesture and Mary can see his bruised and bloodied knuckles and knows suddenly that it was from hitting Cas. Dean’s never going to forgive himself, she thinks, which just raises a fresh wave of anger against John. “Dean has a lot of feelings, Mary, about how he thinks he did a better job than you could have with Sammy, how his whole life he revered this, this perfect Madonna, this infallible mother. And then you come back and you’re this.”

“Human, John,” she snarls. “What I am is human. Which is more than I could have said for you, even when you were alive.”

“You left me with a kid that had the devil in him, some little demon brat-“

“Yeah!” she shouts. “Yeah, that was my fault, something stupid I did to save your worthless life! But Sam is not a brat, John, he is kind, and he is loving, and all he ever wants is for the people he loves to be okay. He is a good man, no thanks to you. I’m proud that he’s my boy! I’m proud that they’re both my boys!”

John takes a step towards Mary. “You think you would have done a better job? You think you would have done any better than me? You wouldn’t have, Mary, you’d have been worse, you’d have fallen back on bad habits, you would have-“

“I would have understood that I never wanted the kids in this life. That’s something you did. That’s your fault. You can’t pin this on me.”

They stare at each other.

“Alright then,” John says finally. “So where does that leave us, sweetheart? Because your options aren’t good. I’m walking out that door. Dean’s much better suited to this than Sam. No matter how much he fights, he’s still Daddy’s little soldier. So I’m leaving with him. And you’re not gonna kill me. You’re not gonna want to hurt Dean.” He takes another step and he’s close enough to touch now. “So what’s it gonna be, Mary? Where are we going from here? Are you coming with me?”

Mary stares him down, then takes a slow, rattling breath.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

His brow creases. “For what?”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Mary answers, and drives the demon blade into his left shoulder.

John looks surprised, in his final flickering moments. Mary gets a savage lick of satisfaction from that, knowing that she could get the upper hand on him, just this once, just this time. She catches Dean as he collapses, trying to avoid his shoulder.

“Shit,” Dean coughs, eyes wide, looking rattled. “Shit, Mom-“

“It’s okay.” Mary tugs off her denim jacket and presses it down against his wound. “I’m sorry. It had to be done.”

“S’fine.” Dean swallows, squeezing his eyes shut. “I get it.”

“Dean.”

Mary looks up to see Cas leaning against the doorway. He looks absolutely beat to shit, blood dripping from his nose onto the floor.

“John’s gone,” she tells him as he staggers towards them. “Dean’s hurt.”

Cas stumbles and kneels by Dean, who looks immediately guilty. “Cas-“

“It’s fine.” Cas looks at Mary. “What can I do?”

“Keep pressure on it. I’m gonna go find Sam.” There’s very few people Mary trusts to keep an eye on Dean as much as Cas. He nods and she stands as Cas shifts to sit at Dean’s left to hold the jean jacket down. She hurtles down the Bunker’s halls, trying to ignore the drips of blood Cas left in his wake, to get to Sam’s room. When she finds him, Sam’s passed out on the floor.

Mary kneels by him, trying not to panic. “Sam? Sam. Sam, wake up.”

Sam jerks into consciousness, flinching away from her, gasping. “No, no-“

“It’s me, it’s me, Sam, it’s me-“ Mary grabs at his wrists as he flails. “Sam, it’s me, it’s okay.”

Sam swallows, looking around the room wildly. “Dad-“

“Gone.” She tightens her grip on his wrist. “He’s gone. I killed him.”

Sam blinks, taking another gasping breath. “Mom.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she is. She’s sorry that there wasn’t a way she could protect him the first time. She knows the way he flinched when she came to him, has known too many hunters beaten by parents to know what it means. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

Sam shuffles forwards a little and she wraps her arms around him. She’s not especially maternal, not anymore, but all she wants right now is to hold her boy, wants to hold the other one she left bleeding on the floor.

“Is Dean okay?” Sam mumbles into her shoulder.

“He’ll live.” Mary rests her chin against him. “We’ll all live.”