Author's note: Sorry for the delay. Live's been quite hectic for me (and still is) and then, my wonderful betareader YouthnkYourefunny couldn't continue to beta for me due to her own hectic RL and the fact that she hardly finds time to write herself, which would be a tragic shame. Check out her stories, they're wonderful. Thank you so much for the work so far, dear *bighugz* I really appreciate what you did for me.

So I had to find myself another Beta reader and Crazybeagle was kind enough to step in. She's doing a great job too and it's their help that makes this fic readable.

Now on to the story:

Chapter 4

Then:

Sam let the linens he still carried fall to the floor and followed his brother, drawing his own gun. He trusted Dean's assessment and if his brother recognized the voice and classified it as a threat, he would not question it. Never again. But once he had made his way over to the door, reaching a frowning Bobby's side, his arms holding the weapon suddenly went limp. On the front porch sided by a scared looking young guy stood Mary Winchester, their mother.

Now:

Dean lowered his gum marginally but he caught himself fast and leveled the barrel back at the woman wearing the familiar face. She lifted her hands a bit at her sides to show that she was unharmed, but that didn't mean much for a supernatural being, which dead people suddenly turning up had the tendency to be.

"Dean?" Bobby asked, guarded.

"Dean?" the thing that looked like Mary Winchester echoed uncertaily "Dean Winchester?" She nearly whispered the name and studied his face with awed, wide eyes. "Is that really you, sweetheart?"

"Cut the crap, bitch. You have about two seconds to tell us who you are and what you want before I put a bullet through your sorry ass.

Dean's snarled response shook Sam out of his stupor and he lifted his gun again, covering the seemingly shocked and shaking stranger at her side. He didn't look like much of a menace, but better safe than sorry, right?

To his right, Bobby also pulled a sawed-off from behind the door and cocked it, also leveling it also at the she-thing.

Her eyes wandered to him and then towards Sam. When she fully registered him, her expression darkened. She didn't meet his eyes.

"Okay, time's up," Dean stated, taking aim to shoot.

Instantly her eyes darted back to him. "Please, don't shoot! I know you're a hunter and probably don't trust me but I'm Mary Winchester, your mother. A leprechaun brought me back, apparently," Mary said rapidly, her eyes darting between the barrel and Dean's face, pleading.

"A leprechaun?" Dean snorted. "Don't make me laugh. Leprechauns don't have that kind of power." He glanced at Bobby for confirmation, and Sam instinctively let his aim drift to cover both strangers. Apparently, Dean didn't like Bobby's reaction to his question. "Isn't that right, Bobby?" he repeated.

The older hunter cleared his throat loudly. "Well, since nobody ain't seen one for the last hundred years or so, before this year…"

"Shit," Dean muttered.

"And if the general and obscure lore is anywhere near correct, then they'd be certainly powerful enough…"

Sam saw the moment Dean's hatred transformed into hope. He swallowed, studying Mary's face intently. Sam bit his lower lip and blinked twice to chase away the sting in his eyes. There was no hope in his own heart but rather a deep, stinging fear. Dean would be devastated when she turned out to be false. His brother deserved her so much. But it had to be a trap. Everything he ever esteemed to be a good thing always turned out to be a manipulation, curse or something else turning sour in his grip. It was heartbreaking to discover that Dean had lost any kind of hope that something might ever turn out better than what he had now and what he did have now was all kinds of crappy in any way you put it.

"Dean, if she's right, we can't shoot her," Bobby reasoned.

Dean was clearly at a loss for what to do, hope so obvious in his stance, from the minuscule quiver in his hands, to his heavier breathing and tick of his cheek muscle. Subtle things nobody but Sam would notice. But Sam couldn't help him this time. If Dean was at a loss, Sam was even less able to process this situation. What to do? She had to be false, what else could she be, and there was absolutely no way to not hurt his brother further.

"We oughta test her," Bobby again was the voice of reason.

The woman nodded, still staring at Dean. A resolve and confidence in her eyes that reminded Sam of the Mary he had met when he had been sent back in time with his brother. "I know that this is a lot to take in, Dean," she continued, now completely calm and level-headed, giving Dean her whole attention. "I'll do any test you come up with. But I swear, I am your mother. I died in Sam's nursery and woke up at the cemetery three days ago. Please. You can ask me anything you want. I used to tell you that angels would watch over you—" Bobby snorted at that –"and when you were sick I made you tomato rice soup, and for a while almost couldn't get you to wear anything else but that teddy shirt you loved so much. For your fourth birthday, your Daddy got you this toy car that looked exactly like the Impala, but it was red, so you stole the waterproof pen and re- colored it black, along with a big part of the table top. Please, honey, please believe me. I am your mom."

More doubt crept into Dean's face and his weapon lowered further, yet still at ready.

Sam's fear shifted. If she really was their mom, what would be the price to pay? Nothing ever came without a price tag for them. What would it be this time?

Dean finally nodded, and Bobby put his weapon down and disappeared inside the house. He came back a moment later with a water bottle, salt and a silver knife.

She nodded and held out her hand. He handed her the bottle of water first. She unscrewed the lid and took a gulp. Nothing happened and Bobby nodded, looking towards the scrawny young man at her side who seemed to have calmed down some, his hazel eyes mostly moving from his companion to Dean, sometimes openly staring at Sam's brother. Mary handed the bottle over to him and he frowned at her offering. "Just drink a bit, I'll explain later, okay?"

He nodded but took a sip himself, after eyeing the bottle suspiciously.

Mary took the knife from Bobby and without hesitation nicked her arm. A little blood welled but she hardly grimaced before turning toward the guy at her side. "Just a little nick. Most supernatural monsters will react badly to silver," she explained and he nodded in understanding.

"And they have to make sure we're nothing like that. I get it." He did hesitate a bit, but Sam thought that it would be normal for a common non-hunter, which he clearly seemed to be. But after one deep inhalation, he dug the tip of the sharp blade into his thumb until a red drop welled up. He handed the knife back to the proudly smiling woman and wiped the blood from the digit before meeting Bobby's gaze. "And now?"

Bobby nodded and spread some salt over the threshold of the door. "There's a devil's trap and other supernatural protection under the rug. Cross that and the salt and we're in the clear." His voice was challenging. He clearly was not yet giving them the benefit of the doubt either.

The guy seemed still confused, but after Dean and Bobby cleared the path, he followed the woman into the house, not even hesitating at the salt line or the devil's trap. And at that moment, passing all the tests, the woman stopped being the woman, stranger or thing to them. She became Mary Winchester. Their mother, somehow resurrected. Bobby had sigils and runes under that rug that would keep out any evil entity, which wouldn't react to salt, silver or holy water.

Sam realized then, that it wasn't Dean who couldn't really trust. His mom was back. No ghost, past or monster wearing her face. His mom. His real mom he had never known. There was a chance to get to know her now and all he felt was a big emotional void and the expectation for the other shoe to drop. Something would go wrong again. It always had so why should this time be different.

She and Dean were now face to face, his older brother's gun hanging limply in his hand at his side. Mom's eyes were misted over and she smiled gently up at him.

"Mom," Dean finally whispered, and then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. Looked like Dean believed her, so Sam figured he could do too, or at least try. He still felt like there was another shoe to drop. But maybe he was just too scarred to accept that something good might still happen to them? Maybe this was his one chance to gain his hope back that at least some things, other than Dean, might turn out okay for him again, that there was still some shred of hope for a happy life for him. Unconsciously he took one step towards his family, cautious to interrupt.

"Mom?" he asked carefully. His mother hadn't acknowledged him much until now. Okay, she hadn't known him for very long, and by the time she had died, he hadn't been old enough to really build a rapport to her but she must have at least guessed by now that he was her other son.

At his voice she stiffened and pulled back from Dean, keeping her eyes on his face for a moment longer, before she turned and stared coldly at Sam. The animosity her eyes made him recoil a step. "Mom?"

"Who are you?" she snapped.

"Mom, this is Sam, your son," Dean explained slowly, as startled by her tone as Sam, if his expression was anything to go by.

"No, he's not,", she replied coldly, gesturing to the young guy who came with her, who was now looking as if he would rather be anywhere else but here. "This is my son, Sam Winchester, so I ask you again, who are you?"

The void inside of Sam morphed into a knob of pain at the open rejection in her look and tone, so that her words registered with a delay. And even then he didn't know how to react. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times, but couldn't bring a word past his lips. Like always, Dean came to his rescue, elbowing past her to stand protectively in front of Sam, showing instinctively where his first priority lay. It was this automatic reaction that eased some of Sam's shock and pain.

"What are you talking about? I don't know who that guy there is," he pointed at the stranger, "but I know my brother and that isn't him."

Mary took a deep breath and visibly fought to not let her hostility be directed at Dean, but it was the stranger that interrupted anything she might have said.

"They probably don't even know, Mom." He took one step forward but Bobby held him back with one arm across his chest. He eyed the older hunter for a second before turning back to the Winchesters. "The Leprechaun said I was switched at six months old. Dean was still very small then and Sam…" he threw an apologizing look at Sam, "he was still a baby. He has been raised as Sam Winchester, so he doesn't know anything else."

Dean's eyebrow lifted in surprised disbelief at that but Mary dismissed the excuses with a shake of her head. "Doesn't matter to me. He's an imposter and as far as I'm concerned he could be some evil demon spawn or the antichrist, biding his time before he attacks."

Sam felt ill. The way she talked about him. Her open dislike… and if she knew about what he had done and had been chosen to further do… She wasn't far off. And what if it was true? If he really had been switched that night? No it couldn't be. Fate could not take that from him too. Not that.

"That's the biggest bull I've ever heard, but I'd like to know how come you think you're my real brother. Care to explain?" Dean addressed the young guy venomously.

"Dean!" Mary admonished. "He's your brother. I'm sure."

"Don't think he was talkin' to you, lady," Bobby glowered at her, looking expectantly towards the young man at his side. Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest, mirroring his look. Sam was stunned that Dean didn't say a word about Bobby's harsh treatment of Mary, but it eased the pain and shock a bit more. "Maybe we should move this somewhere else and listen to his story before we…" he shrugged, not knowing what they'll do afterwards. The thought that he was not really Dean's brother was too much to bear thinking about. He just hoped that all would clear up to be a big misunderstanding in the end.

Dean nodded and turned towards Bobby's study, clasping Sam's arm in reassurance as he passed him and whispered a soft, "Cas would have said something if you weren't my real brother."

Sam smiled his first genuine smile in what felt like a felt decade. Dean was right. Cas would know if they were not related and he would have told them. No, apart from the fact that he had referred to them as brothers several times himself, the destiny asked for two brothers to vessel Lucifer and Michael.

Mood already lifted, Sam followed his brother. They settled on the edge of Bobby's desk, while Mary and the imposter took a seat on the worn sofa. Bobby settled in his old armchair, leaning his shotgun against the upholstery on the ground. Not holding it anymore, but keeping it close enough to react fast if needed.

"Shoot,", Dean glared at the guy, his body language tense and unfriendly.

The guy cleared his throat and looked so nervously from one another that Sam almost felt sorry for him. He didn't look like a threat at all, rather like a student called before the principal for chastisement. The guy cleared his throat again before he began his tale.

"When I was approximately six month old, I was found in a children's home." I was raised in the foster system, never knowing where I came from…" His eyes had a sad, wistful look on them, when he recalled a certainly less than loving childhood but he shook himself out of it quickly and sought the eyes of Mary who smiled at him encouraging, squeezing his hand. He returned the smile and squeeze and Sam fought the flush of hurt and anger at seeing this. But before those irrational of worry for his mom and jealousy could take hold the imposter continued, "About a week ago I saved the life of what I learned to be a leprechaun, and he told me that he would make me meet my family. He transported me to Kansas where I met my mother, who he resuscitated, since she died the night I was placed at the children's home."

Dean barked a humorless laugh. "And you just take his word for it? Newsflash, mister, I know for sure that this,", he indicated Sam, "is my brother."

False-Sam lowered his eyes uncomfortably. "I only know what he told me. He said that the perfect match had to be brought together. I have no idea what he meant by that."

A cold shiver worked its way down Sam's spine and Dean met his eyes for a split second, an apprehension in them Sam was sure, were mirrored in his own.

"Sam had a birthmark," Mary fell into the conversation, looking daringly at Sam.

Sam swallowed. "Where?"

"On his upper right hip. It's not very dark or big but it has a distinguishable form."

Sam had some not-so-subtle birthmarks on his body, and even face, but not on his hip. No, no, no it wasn't possible. But then again; couldn't birthmarks disappear with age, after all? He though he had read something like this one time.

"Well?"

"Sam has no birthmark on his hip," Dean provided, suddenly more guarded towards the woman in the room, "but that doesn't prove anything. Sam never had a birthmark on his hip and Dad would have grown suspicious if it had suddenly disappeared after the fire. He would have noticed the absence when he changed or bathed Sammy afterwards. "

Mary shook her head. "John wasn't feeling confident enough to handle a baby, like most men aren't. He was all for playing with Sam, but spent most of his time with you, once you weren't an infant anymore, which is what he planned to do with Sam. He always worried that he'd hurt the baby so he almost never changed him and only helped with the bath times He could have not noticed. Baby Sam did have that birthmark and adult Sam has it too." She smiled at the guy reassuringly.

Sam was long past the point of answering. He had never felt so lost in his life, and that was saying something, given his long history—a hell of a lot longer than most guys—of feeling lost and unsure."

Dean rubbed his hands down his face and huffed out a heavy breath.

"Dean, maybe…" Bobby begun, but Dean threw him a glare.

"No, Bobby."

"There were a lot of 'special kids' who could have been made a vessel if they had won the competition, and they weren't your brother…"

"I said no," Dean spat. "There is no telling if they would have become the vessel or just been made general. Azazel never said anything about a vessel. It wasn't HIS game."

"Vessel? What are you talking about, honey? Mary interrupted, but Bobby and Dean ignored her.

"I hate this as much as you, boy, but there is a small possibility…"

"No," Dean responded in a no-nonsense tone, and Sam was pathetically thankful to him for his unwavering belief in their brotherhood, but a small bit of fear and doubt had crept back into Sam's heart at Bobby's words.

Dean threw up his arms and huffed another breath. "You know what? We'll clear this mess up once and for all. CAS! Get your winged ass here as soon as possible. We really need you… please," he added in an almost sheepish afterthought. Were the situation not so serious, Sam might have found it funny. Cas had chewed them out on one of his last visits that he had his own problems in heaven and that they couldn't expect him to come every time they felt like calling him. Especially since they admittedly rarely thanked him.

"Who is Cass?" Mary asked.

"An angel,"Bobby supplied while Dean started to fidget nervously when the angel didn't show.

"C'mon, Cas, we really need you this time. Don't be an ass,", he muttered.

Mary gasped. "An angel?" she breathed." They really exist?"

Bobby nodded.

"And you're in contact with one?"

"You can cut the revered tone and starry eyes, lady. They're nothing like general lore makes you think. Most of them are nothing more than dicks with wings."

"You know, Dean. I really don't have time to come for any minor problem you may have."

Mary yelped and jumped into a defensive stance, facing the guy who suddenly stood only one foot behind the sofa she was sitting on.

"Who..."

"Mom, meet Castiel, angel of the lord", Dean deadpanned. "Cas, it's really important this time."

Cas nodded and moved passed the sofa and Mary with Fake-Sam. Mary didn't leave him out of her eyes and Fake-Sam stared at him with wide eyes. "This is an angel? He looks just like a dude. A boring one at that."

"Sam!" Mary warned. She was a hunter and would know that it wasn't wise to insult a supposedly powerful supernatural being.

Cas tilted his head slightly to the side. His eyes wandered from Mary to Fake-Sam and there seemed to be a slight notion of confusion at her calling him by this name before he held his, once again, impassive glance at the younger didn't seem to take offence in the jibe. Sam doubted that he even recognized it as such.

"And he wears a trench coat." Fake Sam was openly fascinated now.

"That is correct," Cas answered.

"Angels wear trench coats?"

"My vessel does."

"Vessel?"

"You mean you're possessing some poor sod?" Mary was indignant.

"Angels can only possess their vessels with their permission. Some time ago, I was sent to earth to contact Sam and Dean, but most humans are not able to see and hear our true forms and to lay eyes on us would burn out their eyes," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Literally,", Bobby muttered.

"Can we have this conversation later?" Dean interrupted. "Cas, Sam is my brother, right?"

Cass seemed puzzled at that. "Of course he is."

"And you're absolutely sure, right?"

"You and Sam are more than brothers, Dean. Your destinies have been intertwined since before your birth."

Sam exhaled all the fear of the last half hour, feeling the weight lift of his chest, and exchanged a relieved look with his brother.

"Why are you asking me this, Dean? I thought this was important?"

"It is, Cas. This guy over there claims to be the real Sam Winchester. Switched on the night of Azazel's attack. I knew it, though, that he was talking shit. I know my brother." Dean glared at the other guy.

Castiel frowned at that, and before anyone could react he was in front of Fake-Sam, laying his hand upon his chest.

"What are you doing?" Mary shouted, and moved to his side, only to be stopped by an invisible barrier surrounding the two males. Cas' frown deepened as he stared at his hand on the guys chest. Fake Sam was too petrified to move, and a soft glow shone from under Cas' hand, illuminating the fabric of the shirt he touched in between his fingers.

After a few seconds Cas removed his hand and took two steps back. Instantly Mary was at fake Sam's side, checking him over visually. "I'm okay," he assured her.

Sam didn't like the somber look on the angel, who finally met his eyes and moved towards him, laying his hands on his chest. The soft glow appeared just like with fake Sam. There was a slight tingling but no pain. When Cas took his hand away he didn't say anything but moved to Dean to repeat the action. The brothers exchanged a look but didn't interrupt the angel. He would explain soon enough.

After Cas finished with Dean he took a step back, and seemed deep in thought. "Finished groping me, man? Geez, I knew that women can't keep their hands of me, but I wouldn't have figured you for that kind of guy, dude."

Dean's attempt at humor fell flat for Sam could hear the trepidation in his voice clearly.

"I wouldn't have figured…" Cas began.

"What the hell, Cas."

"Dean," Cas answered and seemed strangely apologetic about it. "All the angels are brothers, even though we are not blood related, since we are not created the way humans are. God is our Father, our Creator, and that makes us siblings. God also created the humans, so the way that the heavenly host understands it, you are all brothers and sisters too. Humans are very short-lived, and angels do understand close bonds, but most wouldn't care about what you call blood relations further than some blood lines that are tied together a heavenly way. In that sense, you and Sam are real brothers."

"And in the human, genetic, blood related sense?" Sam asked, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. But he knew the answer before Cas gave it.

The angel laid sorrowful eyes on him. "I'm sorry Sam. Both your bloodlines are closely tied together and have been crossing over and over again, starting with Cain and Abel, but you're not closely blood related to Dean. This other human there is, though."

T.B.C.

It would be great if you'd find a couple of minutes to leave a comment. I will return the favor and review your story too, if you have written something.

*cheers*