Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’s got the bunker to himself today. Sam’s in town, Cas is off doing who knows what, and Jack is with one of them. Dean doesn’t remember which one said they’re taking the kid, but he’s not on babysitting duty. He can take a load off, walk around in his boxers if he wants, eat cereal by the handful as he watches High Plains Drifter. A good, solid, R&R day.

That was the plan, but as most things do in his life, it gets shoved to the back burner for later.

Crashing clatter from the kitchen halts him midstep, cereal halfway to his mouth as he rolls his eyes and pouts. Flinging the crunchy sugary goodness back in the box, Dean sets it on the floor and creeps back to the kitchen. Sticking his head through the doorway, his gaze sweeps the room. A chair has been pulled to the counter, a cabinet open and half the contents spilled out. On the floor is a sand haired kid, surrounded by junk food looking guilty af.

At first he’s confused how a stray kid managed to get this far into the bunker without anyone noticing but taking in the kid’s looks, his miniature copy of clothes he’s seen before, something clicks. “Jack?”

“H-hi Dean.” The tiny version of Jack peeked up at him, waving a chubby hand. “I’ll clean up, I promise.”

The toddler sets a cracker box that’s bigger than his middle onto the seat of the chair before clamoring up after it. Little feet standing on tiptoe to hike his legs up. A herculean effort being made when he knows regular sized Jack could easily reach the cupboard or snap his fingers and mojo the snacks back in place. “Why are you small?”

Little Jack looks at his toes before darting a glance at Dean, the kid waved a little hand, beckoning him closer. Squatting down next to the chair Dean played along. Jack cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered in Dean’s ear. “Can you keep it secret from Sam and Cas?”

Roving his eyes around the room in consideration, he nods, figuring if this situation is bad Cas would have already felt the shift in Jack’s juju. “I never got to have the life my mother showed me while I was in the womb. I knew I had to grow up, that it’s easier on everyone else if I’m grown, but… I want those little moments.”

“Meaning?”

“Taking my first steps, learning how to use a spoon, going from training wheels to riding all by myself. All those little moments mother dreamed about sharing with me.” Oh… Now Dean gets it. Robbed of a childhood and trying to make up for it, albeit in an unconventional way. Or conventional he guesses since Jack is technically two and normal doesn’t really apply to Winchesters. Jack’s high pitched, child’s voice wavered. “I-i try to do it when we’re not busy, so I don’t burden anyone. I’m sorry. ’m sorry for makin’ a mess. I’ll stop.”

Waterworks and tiny hiccups have Dean panicking, hands hovering over the kid who’s plopped down in the chair, hugging the cardboard box like a teddy bear. “No no- hey. I get it. I do. I’ve been there. Wanting to be a kid and wanting to be normal.”

Carefully sliding the cracker box from Jack’s grip, Dean scooped the kid up. Sitting the toddler’s bottom on his forearm and bracing the little guy with a hand on his back. Sandy hair tickles under his chin as Jack tucks his head into Dean’s neck. Dean holds Jack for a bit, gently shushing him while rocking back and forth.

After Jack settled a bit, Dean murmured softly into the boy’s hair. “How ‘bout I cut you a deal? You promise me that being small isn’t hurting you or your powers and I’ll keep it secret. Everytime you wanna be small, you come to me and I’ll watch over you.”

“It’s not hurting me.” The little voice warms his clavicle and Dean can’t help the smile that twitches up on his lips.

“Good.”

That’s how it started

Now with every bit of down time they have Jack goes little and Dean’s there to take care of him no matter which age he regresses down to. Watching cartoons with a six year old. Playing catch with a pre-teen. Cuddling a toddler to sleep after a nightmare. Swaying as he hums Guns n’ Roses’ Sweet Child of Mine to a baby that stares up at him with innocent golden eyes. It’s a bit weird having to sneak around Cas and Sammy with the kid but Dean finds himself craving those moments. Experiencing the domestic life he could never hold on to.

Sometimes he feels guilty, like he’s replacing Ben with Jack. Sometimes he fears Jack will develop more of his sperm donor’s personality and it’ll be like Emma all over again. Sometimes he looks at the kid’s gummy smile; how excited he is to make a friend at the park; how he hides his face behind Dean’s knee when an adult compliments what a sweet kid he is; the wonder in his eyes when watching Finding Nemo; and feels ashamed he ever thought Jack was evil.

Jolting awake, Dean’s body acts on autopilot as he grips the hilt of the colt under his pillow. Adrenaline spike ramping his heart rate up and shifting his gears into full consciousness. At the sight of Jack he lowers the gun switching from red alert to concerned guardian. “Kiddo what’s wrong?”

Tear streaks reflect from the dim hall light and inches closer, shoulders shaking trying to hold back his sobs. “I’m sorry Dean. Please, please can I?”

“Yeah, c’mere baby.” Opening his arms to the kid, Jack crawls into his bed, body glowing like a human lightbulb as he shrinks down. With the poor kid firmly pressed against the hunter’s gut, Dean sleepily wonders how small Jack’s planning on going as the body beneath his hands shrinks further and further. If he goes full infant then Dean might need to bust out the bottles and reschedule sleep for later until the little guy’s calmed down. A tingle breaks out over his stomach, a twist in his abdomen that Dean ignores in favor of panic as Jack passes his usual size for a baby.

“Christ Jack stop!” The tingling grows into an itch, his guts cramping like he just came back from an ‘all you can eat’ chinese buffet and is reaping the consequences. It doesn’t stop there, the cramps growing in intensity like how some girls describe their periods. Jack is the size of an orange and Dean is terrified that the kid might be dying. “Fuck Fuck! Jack- Jesus!”

Bitting a mouthful of his pillow, Dean muffles an undignified groan of discomfort. His stomach bulges in real time under his hands, then the orange sized light slips under his skin, the previous glow muffled by his stomach. This hasn’t happened before, this could mean something really fucking bad-

A wave of contentment washes over him, relaxing his muscles and erasing his previous alarm. He recognizes the feeling as Jack’s grace, tickling at Dean’s brain, whispering he’s okay, that he feels safe. A nightmare scared Jack so bad and the boy could only think of wanting his mother, how safe and loved he felt when he was with her. Rubbing his hands over his rounded gut, Dean swallowed down the nausea at the unnaturalness of the situation.

“I’m not gonna die if you come out right?” His veins throb, pumping grace tinged blood straight to his brain and Dean sputters out a shocked moan. Eyes rolling back as his scalp prickles as he rides the best high he’s ever felt. Love. Contentment. Safety. Warmth. Affection. Flashes of smiles and every blissful moment where their little family forgot about the horrors of the world for a while.

He got the message. Smiling down at his belly, he tenderly caressed the swollen flesh, chuckling when Jack followed after his fingers with colorful golden swirls. Still fucked up, but Dean can’t help but feel that everything is going to be fine.

Sam shuffles into the kitchen, b-lining for the coffee machine. Pulling his mug from the cabinet, he shakes in a teaspoon of sugar before dumping coffee on top. Hot coffee is usually enough to dissolve the sugar and sweeten the beverage so it’s drinkable but sometimes it needs a bit of a stir to move things along. As he goes to reach for the spoon he sees a powered blue binky. At first Sam thinks he needs to wake up a bit more. That he’s just not seeing the thing right, but as he takes a slurp of his coffee and moves closer. Yep it’s definitely still a binky.

He doesn’t recall a pacifier inventoried in the cursed objects room and there’s no reason why there’d be one in the bunker. Rubbing his eyes, he goes to pick it up and his hand closes around nothing. Sam’s eye’s snap open and he scans the counter top for the binky, even looking at the floor as if he somehow pushed it off. It’s gone, completely vanished.

“Morning Sam.” Jack greeted him, moving past him to get to the fridge.

“Morning Jack.” It’s not unusual to run into oddities like this in their line of work, but the bunker is supposed to be THE safe space. “Did you happen to see a-”

The Nephilim cocks his head to the side and squints his eyes much like Cas does. “See what?”

Shaking his head, Sam waves it off. He’s probably having a bad morning and imagined it. “Ya’know never mind.”

He goes back to his coffee not noticing Jack stuffing his clenched fist into his pocket to hide the pacifier.

“Dean what’s all this?” Sam gestures to the massive amount of papers full of profiles some of which are hunters he recognizes. The map table is littered with photos of people, different colored strings circling each person and even overlapping with other circles.

His brother scratches his cheek, glancing at him before patting his hands on the table and standing up straight from where he’s hunched over. “We’re not gonna be around forever Sammy. Figured I’d make sure things are covered when it comes to that.”

“You’re making a hunter network?” Sam is amazed by how many other hunters are throughout the country. There’s a paper next to Dean, colors scribbled out in crayon and labeled what they represent. The colored strings around the hunters designate their speciality. Red for vampires, white for ghosts, black for all around knowledgeable, and so on. “This is… this is amazing Dean. How did you find all these people?”

“Did a crap ton of digging on Bobby’s old contacts and made a shit ton of calls.” Dean smirked and clapped Sam on the shoulder.

The huge amount of time and effort Dean’s put into is frankly impressive. There’s a few things Sam notices needs to be addressed like communication between hunters and sharing potential cases. They can probably get Charlie to help with that, but Dean doesn’t play well with other hunters. A do it yourself so it gets done right kinda guy on top of wanting to keep others from getting hurt. Him putting this together seemingly on a whim without telling Sam is a bit anxiety inducing.

“Not that this isn’t great and all,” Dean frowns at his choice of words but he levels his brother with a look. “but are you… dying?”

“What? No.” Dean shrugs off his hands and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “I just thought with the kid and everything we could use a little more down time.”

Since Jack, things have been stressful. Having more time to help the half angel grow into his powers would be beneficial. Having more time to hang with friends would be great. “I mean, you know why I asked.” Dean rolled his eyes and Sam nudged him with his elbow. “Let me get a hold of Charlie, she’ll be excited to digitize this.”

There’s crayon scribblings on the wall. It looks like it was done by a five year old, but instead of a cartoony house with a big yellow sun overhead, it’s them. The impala is a black mass with bicycle wheels and standing next to it is him, the tallest stick figure, Dean is next to him followed by a child and lastly Castiel on the end. The kid is holding both Dean and Cas’ hands.

Taking his phone out, he snaps a picture of the drawing, wanting evidence that what he’s seeing is real, unlike with the binky. Backing out of the room, Sam jogs around the bunker. “Cas! Dean!”

He runs into Dean first, the older brother poking his head out of his room, worried by Sam’s franticness. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Library, there’s a kid’s drawing on the wall. And this is gonna sound crazy but earlier this week I found a binky in the kitchen.”

Dean presses his lips together and pats him twice on the arm. “Go get Cas, I’ll go take a look.”

The Seraph tends to wander the bunker, not having a set space in any of the rooms. Cas typically will find a spot to read in, watch TV, or be outside doing who knows what. Luckily for him, Sam manages to stumble across the guy in the infirmary for some reason. The thick book in his hands not from the bunker’s collection.

“Cas, need you to come take a look at something.”

The angel looks up brow creasing as he does so, then closes his book and follows after Sam. By the time they get to the end of the library where the drawing’s at, it’s gone. Dean shrugs before crossing his arms and leans up against a book shelf. Sam pulls out his phone and shows Cas what had been there moments ago. “This was on the wall. I swear it was right there.”

Cas touches the wall where the picture is supposed to be. “It’s wet, someone washed it off.”

Sam presses his lips together. If someone is pranking him, they forgot to do the punchline.

Morning time, Sam Finds his brother in the kitchen leaning back against the counter drinking straight from the blender. He should be happy Dean’s been a tidbit healthier these days but the brown sludge of what appears to be a peanut butter smoothie makes Sam’s nose scrunch. He’s about to give Dean shit about his eating habits when something out of the ordinary catches his eye. Tilted back like this exaggerates Dean’s gut, the swell exposed where his shirt had ridden up. Nine outta ten Dean doesn’t eat the best but he’s by no means lazy; for him to get a pooch like that is concerning. “Dude, you doing okay?”

Wiping off the smoothie mustache with the back of his hand, Dean smacks his lips, “Yeah why?”

“You’re looking a bit out of shape.” He’s only seeing it from the front so he can’t tell how bad it is, but it’s hard to imagine Dean letting himself go. Maybe it’s a health problem? “Should probably cut back on the beer if it’s causing you to bloat.”

Raising a confused eyebrow, Dean looks down at himself. His face flushes red and he tightens his robe around his middle. “Uh- shit. …uh y-yeah. Guess so.”

“Maybe you and me should hit the gym sometime.” Dean lifts off the counter and playfully punches Sam in the shoulder before speed walking off with the rest of his smoothie abomination.

Sam swears he’s losing his mind or has come down with a case of spontaneous baby fever. He’s seeing children’s stuff everywhere. Some of it has perfectly reasonable, rational explanations. Colored paper and markers? Good art mediums for hobbies. A ball? Probably came from the gym. Baby food? Picked up by accident by Jack on a quick food run. Hey he doesn’t need to eat much and even Cas still gets confused by some human behaviors, not a problem.

Then there were the things leaving him feeling a bit crazy. Stuffed animals, kids’ movies, a carseat in the fucking impala. Things he knows were there, took a fucking picture of it, but they keep fucking disappearing. The bunker is warded six ways from Sunday, there is no way he’s being haunted or hallucinating.

Then there’s Dean and Jack sneaking off. The two would say they’ll be in their rooms but when anybody goes to check, the two are nowhere to be found. Missed calls, excuses, giving him and their friends the run around. Sam swears if this is some shitty elaborate prank on their part, he is going to ground them for a month.

“F-fuck, Jack, baby too rough. Gotta be gentle with me. ’M only human.”

“Sorry Dean.”

“S’alright, gimme a second to adjust.” There’s a rustling noise.

“Can I try again?”

“Yeah, c’mere sweetheart.”

Sam backs the hell away from the door, the question he wanted to ask Dean falling out of his brain as he turns tail and runs anywhere else. Ew ew ew. It’s none of his business what his brother does behind closed doors, but that’s Jack! Jack can’t consent! He’s a baby! Well human societal norms can’t really apply to the Nephilim but still! Jack’s naivety should put him in the Hell No category.

Nearly bumping into Castiel in his rush the hunter grabs the angel’s shoulders. “I think Dean is taking advantage of Jack.”

Two eyebrows raise slowly to the shorter man’s hairline, Cas’ inexpressive features scrunching. “You are speaking of the sexual abuse of grooming.”

Cringing at the clinical wording of what he fears is happening, Sam gives a curt nod, prompting Cas’ brows to furrow. “That doesn’t seem likely. Dean doesn’t view Jack like that, he’d have to be compelled by something. That and Jack isn’t interested in pursuing romantic relationships.”

“I know what I heard man, and if they wouldn’t do this stuff willingly then we gotta stop whatever the hell is happening.” The Seraph nods in agreement and follows after Sam’s hurried gait with a light jog. Pounding on door eleven they get a disgruntled ‘what?’ from behind the door before barging in.

“Dude!” Dean drops the pillow he’s cuddling to lay in front of his stomach, his legs are covered by a blanket but from what Sam could tell he’s fully dressed. Pausing the show he’s watching, Dean sends the intruders a peeved look. “A little privacy? Damn.”

Jumping straight to the point Sam questions, “Where’s Jack?”

Dean’s eyes widened a little in surprise before the older Winchester schooled his expression and shrugged nonchalantly. “Dunno. Why, you need him for something?”

Cas walks up to Dean and rips away the pillow and blanket, revealing the brunet’s large rounded stomach. Sam gapes like a fish, pointing and flapping his lips with no sound coming out, cuz holy shit. Holy Shit what the fuck is going on!? With a careful finger, the Seraph lifts Dean’s already stretched shirt to the top of the swell then placing a wide hand under the curve of Dean’s absurd gut. Dean turned his face to the side, gnawing on his bottom lip as he tries to vaporize into thin air out of embarrassment.

“Jack is inside you.”

Sam chokes on his own spit.

“It’s not- you don’t-” Dean scrubs his hands over his face, pulling at his lower eyelids as he stares at the ceiling. “Fuck this is hard to explain.”

Oh yeah so Dean’s having a tough time? What about the mind fuck Sam’s going through? “Well start explaining, I’d love to hear what you’re going to say because there’s been too much weird shit happening and I’m the only one who seems to notice or care!”

“Sammy-”

“Dean-”

“Stop.” Cas cuts off both the Winchesters before turning a concerned squint at Dean. “Your behavior as of late has been different but you looked… happier so I didn’t pry. Dean, I’m not judging, but I want to understand.”

Dean sucks in a huge breath, squirming on the spot to get more comfortable with the humongous weight hanging off his front. Settling a stern glare on the intruders to his room. “Look ’M only gonna say this once, so don’t either of you dare try to psychoanalyze or some shit later. Got it?”

Cas nods and Sam stays quiet.

“Ya’know how I’ll say take normal when and where you can get it?” Dean lowers his eyes down to his stomach. “The hunting life isn’t a good one. It ruins families and you can’t ever really escape it. For Jack it’s ten times worse. Heaven will never accept him and he’ll never fit in with humans. Sammy, when raising you… I know it wasn’t great but at least there were times you got to be a kid. Jack wasn’t allowed that.”

Rubbing his hands over the curvature of his belly protectively, Dean swallows. “And I know ’m never gonna be able to have that apple pie life. I’ll never have normal. Never have a wife and hold our baby like this- I… fuck…” Squeezing his hand over his eyes, Dean takes another haggard breath.

“I found Jack shrunk down as a kid ‘bout a month ago.” Dean’s hands shake and he reaches out for the blanket and fists the fabric. “I kept all this secret from you guys cuz he asked me to. Thought you were gonna talk him outta it and convince him to be an adult. He wants to be a kid. He is a kid.”

Sam felt a wave of guilt swathe over him at Dean’s imploring tone. They’ve all been treating Jack as a young adult because he looks like one. It’s easy to forget that the Nephilim is still just a child. His brother sighs, “I’ve been hanging out with him and- I dunno, I guess being his dad? I get to feel normal when taking care of him.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Sam absorbs it all. Jack using his powers to be the child he never got to be. Dean coping with his grief of never having a normal life by caring for little Jack. It still leaves one thing left unexplained. Crouching down on his haunches in front of his brother, Sam softens his voice empathetically. “Okay, I get it. If Jack can hear me, I want to apologize to him for making him think he couldn’t tell us about how he felt.”

“And Dean, we don’t have to get sappy about it, but I’m here for you man.” Placing his hand on Dean’s knee he gives a reassuring squeeze before gesturing at the baby belly. “How did taking care of little Jack escalate into this?”

“Is this the first time this has happened?” Cas sounded grave, eyeing Dean’s gut warrily. Biting back the panic, Sam would hate for Dean to go through what Kelly did.

“Pfft na.” Dean cracks a grin and waves their worries away. “Haven’t been keeping count. The first time was an accident, but now when he’s feeling overwhelmed we’ll do this. It’s a comfort for him. Reminds him of the time he spent with his mom, and-”

The pregnant man licks his lips, flushing ruddy on his cheeks. “It feels fantastic. ’M not sure if it’s the hormones or Jack’s juju but I get like THE best high. Hurts like a bitch when he’s going in though.”

Oooooohhhhh so that’s what he heard earlier. Still kinda weird, but Winchesters live nothing but weird. Patting Dean’s knee Sam rises to his feet. “We’ll pitch in and help when Jack wants to be little. I mean, not the preggo stuff, but everything else is fair game.”

“I researched extensively on child rearing while with Kelly and can help,” Cas’ lip curls a little with apprehension as he places a hand on his own stomach. “but I have the same stance as Sam.”

Dean barks a laugh and rubs his hands over his belly. Eyes creased in absolute joy and mouth set in a pure affectionate smile. “Heard that baby? We’re gonna be just fine.”

Chapter Text

“Come on Uncle Sammy!” Jack races up the stairs of the jungle gym, little limbs carrying him as fast as they can. Blond hair flops around Jack’s head as the toddler bounces up and down at the top of the slide. Sam groans, full body sagging as he tromps to the jungle gym, the play equipment a smidgen shorter than samsquatch.

“Why do I gotta go down the slide?”

Dean pulls out his phone, opening up the camera and getting it set to record. “Because your feet touch the ground before your head ever exits the top, and it’s hilarious.”

His little brother clamors onto the shelf, contorting his long limbs to fit on the child-sized play equipment and sticking his legs out the mouth of the slide. Jack sits in Sam’s lap, calling out excitedly to Dean for him to watch. Jack isn’t going down the slide as much as he’s using Sam as an escalator. Sammy ‘slides’ maybe four inches before his feet connect to the ground and then has to bend his knees so that his head clears the slide’s awning. Smothering his snort, Dean gets the whole process on camera.

Dean captures a few more moments of Jack having the time of his life while Sam’s struggles to navigate the tiny play equipment. Taking pity on his brother Dean goes to his Baby and pulls the cooler from the back. Hollering, “Sam, Jack, lunch time!”

Bringing the cooler to the pavilion, he sets out the two freaks’ pbjays and a veggie tray to share and pulls out his own proper sandwich. Complete with thick-cut, delicious bacon. His boys tuck in and Jack manages to eat most of his pbjay before he starts slowing down. Buckaroo looks down at his sandwich, a little frown etched into his youthful face and sighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

Dean straightens up and sets down his superior lunch, reaching out and wiping away a bit of strawberry jam from a round cheek with his thumb. “What’s the matter baby?”

Jack peeks up at him with the most miserable puppy dog eyes, it’s absolutely criminal. “My mouth wants more but my tummy don’t.”

Sam giggles through a mouthful of wonder bread and peanut butter, and Dean has to clear his throat to keep from joining him. Poor kid is too full and can’t finish his sandwich unless he wants to risk tummy aches. “That’s alright, we can save it for later.”

“But… we have din-din later.” Jack’s eyebrows scrunch together much like Castiel, before his eyes widen and the kiddo looks up at Dean distraught. “What if I don’t want it later? It get all icky!”

Sam takes the opportunity to lean over and chomp a massive bite of the pbjay right out of Jack’s hands. The ankle biter glares at Samsquatch incredulously before realizing his leftover problem is solved and holds the rest up for Sam to eat. Sam, being the giraffe he is, uses his lips to pull the crumbly bread into his mouth, tilting his head back to let gravity pull the sandwich into his gullet instead of using his hands. Dean manages to snag a picture of the moment.

Wrapping up their park trip, Dean wet wipes both his boys down to spare Baby from dirt and peanut butter getting all over her interior and head home.

-

“We’re back!” He calls out into the bunker and carries Jack down the staircase while Sam handles the cooler. Castiel meets him at the bottom of the steps and Jack squirms excitedly as he reaches for the Angel. “Daddy!”

The toddler exchanges hands and Dean feels his heart melt at the fond smile Cas gives their little sweetheart. “Hello Jack, how was the park today?”

Jack rambles off his adventure as Cas nods and hums along, carrying the toddler to the newly renovated living room. Dean created the space out of the first bedrooms down the residential hallway. Smashing down the walls and leaving support beams to open up the space. There’s a mounted TV on the wall, a couch, recliners, a pool table (that was fun trying to get down here), and a play corner for Jack. A soft area rug covers most of the hard flooring so the kid doesn’t hurt his knees while having fun. Drawers and baskets hold toys and craft supplies. Most importantly is the rocking chair. All three of the adults spent time in that chair watching over the squirt, but Dean has sat in that thing the most.

Headed down to the war room, Dean gets started on his work day. Since building the network and getting it online with the help of Charlie, the Winchesters have taken up a greater support role. Manufacturing bullets, spell supplies, gun & car repairs, and the occasional training session. There’s the once in a blue moon call from hunters who aren’t terribly tech savvy. Unable to navigate the website to research what it is they’re hunting. Other than that it’s been smooth sailing.

Dean’s packing salt into a casing as he listens to Sam man the phone. “Hey man, yeah it’s been a while. You’ve seen the site? I know right? We’re still working on getting everything from paper to digital. Yeah. Yeah totally, you see anything we’ve missed let us know.” Sam pauses for a while as the speaker talks. “Here? Hold on, let me ask.”

His brother presses the landline to his chest and tugs on Dean’s sleeve to get his attention. “Garth wants to know if we can do a big family visit.”

Oh so it’s Garth on the other end. It’s been a while since they’ve heard from the werewolf. “Yeah sure. Wait.” He replays Sam’s words in his head. They haven’t taken Jack on a road trip since he started going little, the eldest Winchester isn’t sure how well the little guy will handle it, not to mention meeting strangers for the first time. He doesn’t want to end up barefoot and pregnant at Garth’s and opening up that can of worms. “Us go there or them coming here?”

“Them coming here.” Sammy gestures with a finger and taps the table between the two of them. “They’re going on a family trip to see the Grand Canyon and want to stop by.”

That should be fine then. Dean begins making a mental list of what they might need when the Fitzgerald pack comes to town. “Ask him if they want barbeque.”

Sam relays the question then nods his head at Dean, giving him a thumbs up. Smiling to himself he goes back to packing shells. “Awesome.”

“Hey Guys! Aww c’mere.” Dean’s enveloped in gangly limbs and squeezed with a Garth level of enthusiasm. The werewolf lifts him off the ground; huffs of air at the hunter’s neck concerning Dean for a moment when the lanky man sets him down and holds him at arm’s length. Curiosity and confusion pulling at Garth’s face, irises glinting a hint of gold. “Huh… you smell like Bess did after she had Gertie.”

“Uhhh-”

“Can we help you with your bags or anything?” Sam to the rescue, the sasquatch gesturing to the car before holding his hand out to a very pregnant Bess. “I’m Sam by the way, we’ve done a couple cases with Garth.”

“Nice to meet you,” She took a hold of Sam’s hand and gave a light shake, her other hand under her belly. “Garth’s told me some stories. Not sure how much he’s embellished them though. He makes you two sound like superheroes.”

She points to a bag in the back seat. “That one right there if you please. Gertie do you want to say hi?” The small girl stands behind her mother, peering at the Winchesters, but shakes her head. Bess smiles down fondly at her, petting the girl’s head. “She’s still so shy around people who aren’t pack.”

“But if she’s anything like her daddy, she’ll be a hugger in no time! C’mere you.” Garth moves on to pull Sam into a hug and Dean gets the couple’s bag, eyeing Bess’ stomach.

She looks ready to blow and definitely not like she should be going on a cross country trip. With Jack riding passengers he hardly wants to move let alone be sitting in a car for hours on end. “You good to be road trippin’? You look pretty…”

Not sure how to word it, Dean makes a motion around his own stomach and she giggles, waving him off. “I’m not due for a while yet, it’s twins. Want to get out of the house and make some fun memories for Gertie while I still can.”

Humming in understanding he leads the group from the garage into the bunker and show the Fitzgeralds the room they made up for them. They get through part of the little tour before Cas pops his head out of Jack’s room. “Dean, Jack has- ah Hello Garth, Bess. May I borrow Dean for a moment?”

“Yeah, course.” Garth shoots him a thumbs up before helping his wife get down on the couch. Their daughter taking a seat between them.

Sam takes over as host, and a conversation drums up in the background as Dean heads down the hall. Ducking into Jack’s room and glancing around the space before locating a chubby toddler in the Seraph’s arms. The kid couldn’t be much more than two, still baby cheeked and button nose but with better limb control. One tiny hand clutching Cas’ button-up, while the other is a few drooly fingers deep in the stinker’s mouth.

“He’s gone nonverbal a few hours ago and doesn’t want me to set him down. He’ll communicate through grace but won’t tell me what’s making him feel so uncomfortable.” Cas’ hand glows faintly as he rubs the kiddo’s back soothingly. Jack tucks his head into the other dude’s chest; round, blue eyes peering up at Dean.

“Hey baby. Want me to hold ya for a bit?” Those baby blues blinked and two hands reached out for him. Dodging the one covered in spit, he wipes the little fingers off with the bottom of his shirt. Balancing buckaroo on his hip, Dean checks in with his best friend. “So clingy and not talking right?”

The Angel flits about the room cleaning up toys and drawings. “Yes, he did play time like normal, but refused to talk or let go of me after naptime.”

There’s a few things that shake Jack up enough to shut down like this. One, nightmares. Two, accidentally hurting someone or breaking something. Three, sad movies with pets. Since Jack isn’t crying and trying to get inside him or repeating sorry over and over, Dean’s assuming it must have been power related. The tyke always acts like he’s done something wrong when angel voodoo is involved.

“Did your magic scare you sweetpea?” A little nod against him tells Dean everything he needs to know. “You know it’s normal right? Daddy Cas is here for you baby. He can help make it not so scary.”

Another little nod gets him smiling and he kisses the downy soft sandy hairs. “Good. Now, I got some friends over and there’s a girl a little bit older than you. Wanna go say hi?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Jack nods again. Resting his chin on top of his baby’s fuzzy head, Dean carries the munchkin out to the living room. Cas follows after them, placing a hand at the brunet’s lower back as he grace communes with Jack once more. Their eyes glow, attracting the attention of their guests. Garth perks up, a smile already brightening his face as he spots little Jack in Dean’s arms. “I see you got a little one of your own! Hey buddy!”

Bouncing the toddler on his hip, Dean gets a giggle from the squirt as he introduces their youngest family member. “This is Jack, he’s a Nephilim.”

“Angel human hybrid.” Cas clarifies.

“Ooooh so is he…” Bess wiggles a finger back and forth between Dean and Cas.

The feathered bastard has the audacity to smirk. “It’s complicated but yes, I’m Jack’s Father.”

Glaring at the Angel with a look of unimpressed ‘ha ha very funny jackass’ Cas just leaves the room with a mumbled ‘Jack wants juice’. Switching which hip Jack is on as he walks up to Sam, Dean plops the kid down in the giant’s lap. “Kay buddy I gotta start barbecuing, are you good to stay with uncle Sammy for a bit?”

Instantly Jack’s eyes get watery and he raises his little arms in the air, making grabby hands at him as the toddler hiccups little, “Mum-mum m-mumm”

“Yikes.” Sam lifts Jack up, holding the toddler for Dean to take, nose wrinkled like Jack dirtied a diaper. Cas rejoins them, juice in hand, and reaches out to take the baby, but Jack cries harder. Little grabby hands wanting Dean, the little guy’s face growing redder and wet with tears. Scooping his baby to his chest, Dean tucks his sweetheart’s head into his neck and hushes the hiccuping sobs. Cas offers the juice cup and Dean nabs it; nudging it into the toddler’s hand. It sorta works, the cold juice distracting Jack enough to stop crying for the most part to drink. When Jack quiets down, his brother slinks out of his recliner and jabs his thumb towards the kitchen. “Uh, I can start dinner instead.”

“No way José, for all I know you’ll turn the ribs into tofu.” Turning to the couple on the couch, Dean feels a little bad for what he’s about to ask. “Garth do you mind taking over? Jack’s feelin’ a bit anxious today.”

“Hey it’s no prob.” The lanky man gets up off the couch and pats a friendly hand on the Seraph’s shoulder. “Me and Cas can figure out dinner.”

Both Sam and Dean are about to say something about Cas not needing to eat but the werewolf has already dragged the poor Angel off in the direction of the kitchen. Sam goes after them for potential damage patrol, whether it be saving the kitchen from Garth or Cas, Dean doesn’t know. Dean takes the vacated seat next to Bess and Gertie with a sigh. Gertie slips off the couch and heads to the kid’s plastic table, looking between Dean and her mother for permission. “Go ahead kiddo, there’s crayons and paper in those drawers if you wanna draw.”

Gertie positively beams at him and makes herself at home. Digging out the crayons and going straight to working on her masterpiece. The pregnant woman pats his thigh and shoots him an encouraging smile. “You’re doing great.”

“Na, this part I got down packed. Jack’s not my first.” As soon as the words leave his mouth he wants to take them back. It’s too late, Bess’ eyes have already filled with intrigue. “Um- well, technically Sam is my first. I don’t know how much Garth’s told you but our Dad lived and breathed the hunting life, took us everywhere. I was helping him gank monsters ever since I could hold a gun.”

“He did say you two have more experience than most hunters combined. That your dad made the Winchester name infamous.” Dean snorts at her wording. John Winchester was the Hunter. Could kill what others deemed impossible or too dangerous. He was a great hunter, but he’s not the best example of a father. Not after Mary died.

Jack’s eyes droop closed and Dean gently rearranges the tyke in his arms; moving the juice cup to the arm of the couch. Smoothing the soft hair and stroking his finger down a round cheek. He tried to kill this creature, this innocent baby who loves cookie cereal and his teddy bear. Knee jerk reaction beaten into his head from his dad, from purgatory. Lucifer equals evil, anything born of Lucifer equals evil. Forgetting about the half shapeshifter whose only crime was being born. Forgetting Jesse, a sweet kid who didn’t know why weird things happened to him.

“Yeah, that fame and experience came at a price. Dad was busy most the time and that just left me and Sammy. I- I was the one who made sure he had clean clothes, food in the morning, got him to school on time…” He realizes he’s letting himself get dragged into a chick flick moment but shrugs it off. Bess won’t care, she doesn’t need him to be strong right now. She’s probably the only one who’ll understand what’s bogging down his mind. “Then there was Ben, God I loved that kid like he was my own. But I couldn’t- my life, what I am, I couldn’t risk him being dragged into that. I couldn’t risk ruining his life.”

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Dean realizes underneath it all he’s scared shitless. There’s been so many touch and go moments. With Sam, Ben, hell Emma was never given a chance. He doesn’t want that for Jack. God please, he’ll do anything for history to not repeat itself. “Now I got Jack and I wanna raise him right but… He’s not human.” His voice cracked. “Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing is enough.”

Bess gives him a moment, her hands resting on her belly, soothing over the new lives within. Miracles that’ll grow into their own persons one day. Make the world a brighter, if goofier, place depending on how much of Garth’s personality shines through. The man has a severe case of golden retriever syndrome but a dog is a dog and even the most friendly will bite if they perceive a threat.

Looking at Gertie, seeing her hum to herself as she scribbles green swirls at the bottom of the page to make grass, twists Dean’s insides. No seasoned hunter would be able to tell that the little girl transforms under the moonlight and eats the hearts of her prey. Jack is half Angel. A Nephilim. A creature with so little lore to them that what’s written is their creation and subsequent death. Nothing about raising them, developmental milestones, or care of any sort. The fact that Jack managed to take care of himself for damn near half a year is astounding.

The hunter’s gut clenched tighter as nausea swamped him from remembering how much Jack struggled while Dean was right there beside him. Because that new born baby had to take on the guise of an adult, and he just… went with it.

A hand on his shoulder startles him out of his growing self loathing. Bess’ features set in a stern matronly frown. “Dean. I’m not human.”

“I need things that ordinary people don’t.” Her face lightens, eyes crinkling at the corners, her eyes distant for a moment as she recalls a happy thought. “When I first met Garth, he didn’t understand our needs. You know what we did?”

“What?”

Her crows feet deepen as a smile graces her lips, the lines showing a youth of smiles as she squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “We talked about it. Each time he couldn’t wrap his head around what he needed we sat down and talked. I can’t say it’ll be the same for you, but Jack will tell you what he needs and oh-”

Her hands go to her belly, pressing lightly as she closes her eyes to suss out the precise spot. “They’re moving. Would you like to feel?”

“Uh yeah, sure.” Adjusting Jack to one arm and holding his baby closer to his chest, Dean offers his hand to Bess who guides it to the spot being bumped. He’s never really got to feel this on another person, his mom might have done it with him when she was pregnant with Sam. He doesn’t know if that’s a real memory or not. The nudge against his palm is calming, like during tummy time with Jack.

The peaceful moment is broken when the guys stumble into the living room, Sam looking distinctly frazzled as he said, “We didn’t set anything on fire.” His voice is drowned out by Garth holding up two beers in each hand and proudly declaring, “We have meat, brewskies, and a bunch of tasty sides! Who’s ready to eat?”

“Me! Mememe!” Gertie shoots up from her spot and latches onto her dad’s leg excitedly bouncing up and down on his shoe.

Jack’s little face scrunches awake at the commotion, yawning as he stretches out his tiny body. Bess laughs and lifts her hands up. “Darling? Be a dear and help me up.”

“Of course love!” The lanky man passes the beers off to the guys beside him and comes sweeping in like a knight in shining armor. Taking her hands in his and leaning down to kiss her before pulling Bess to her feet.

Getting upright himself, he grabs the juice cup and walks after the crowd, easily catching up to Cas who’s a few paces behind. The Seraph has barbeque sauce smeared on his cheek. Handing the cup to the Angel, Dean swipes his thumb over the smear, collecting the reddish brown sauce and licking it off his thumb. “Not bad.”

“You had everything prepared, it would have been disastrous if we couldn’t follow simple instructions.” Blue eyes darted away from him and the slight forced monotone is enough to give it away that something got screwed up and the chefs had to cover their mistake.

Smirking, Dean bounces Jack to wake the kiddo up a little more. “Uh-huh, sure.”

Dishes were served on the library’s table; everyone finding their spot to sit and tucking into the food, filling the bunker with chattering, being so damn domestic… Dean’s heart does a weird heavy thump.

This is what he’d been missing.

Now that he’s gotten a taste of it, he’s sure he’ll break if his little cobbled together family is taken from him.

Chapter Text

Outside the bunker in a nice patch of dappled sunlit grass, Dean sits on a blanket with a little Jack happily burbling and kicking his limbs as Dean waggles his fingers at the baby. Castiel sits at the edge of the blanket, heavy book in hand, a soft smile playing about his face at the serenity of the situation. A pocket of paradise. His own Garden of Eden.

Flipping through the tome of Christian mythology, Castiel took his time crossing out or highlighting portions that were incorrect or misinterpreted. Numbering and supplementing his first-hand account of what happened on a separate paper. He could simply flip through the book at inhuman speeds and will his notations into existence with his grace, but doing this by hand is cathartic to him. Taking time to do as humans do.

He feels the vibration before his phone peels out its first ring. In a practiced motion; the Angel retrieves it from his pocket, flips it open, and accepts the call. Before he can provide the standard greeting a known, sardonic, feminine voice speaks first. “Hello not father.”

Clair. While their relationship isn’t the best, it has improved by leaps and bounds. From him being a nightmare to even look at, to more of an Uncle and Niece situation. Feeling Dean’s eyes on him, the Seraph mouth’s Clair’s name. The hunter nods and returns his attention to their giggling child.

He and Clair do make time for twice monthly calls; speaking less of hunts since Dean got the hunters’ website implemented. Although, this call is a bit early. Something might be wrong. “Hello not offspring, how are you doing?”

“Not bad, not bad.” She smacks her lips and lets the silence drag out for a moment. “Just sitting in an interrogations office.”

Ah, he was right to assume this isn’t a casual check-in. Closing his eyes, Castiel tilts his head back, letting the sensation of the sun warming his skin calm him. “What did you do.”

“Okay so it wasn’t my fault actually.”

“Clair.”

“I wasn’t the one who started it!” Her voice explodes, the line cutting out a bit, warping her words with an electrical twang. “The guy wouldn’t take no for an answer and when I kicked his ass I may have accidentally shoved him into some other dudes. And the whole bar might of… broke out… in a fight.” Her voice got smaller and smaller as her words drifted off.

A frown tugs at his lips. He understands her choice of profession will lead her to unsavory and unsafe places. He knows Clair is mature enough in her own right to make adult decisions. That doesn’t mean Castiel has to like it or approve. “You’re not old enough to drink yet.”

“In this country.” Clair mutters. He hears rattling of metal on metal and surmises she’s been handcuffed to the table. “Anyway they started connecting me to some of the cases I did annnnnnd I might be facing domestic terrorism charges if I don’t get outta here soon.”

Setting his pen down, the Angel tucks his note page into the book as a placeholder and holds the phone down and away towards his shoulder as he addresses his friend. “Dean-”

“Yeah I heard.” The brunet lays back, setting Jack on his stomach and petting a hand down the Nephilim’s back as the child glows gold and sinks underneath Dean’s skin. The hunter gulps in a few deep breaths, hands fisting the blanket for a tense moment before relaxing bonelessly. Humming in contentment in the midday shade. “I’ll pick up, you go help Clair.”

Castiel will never cease to be amazed by Dean’s resilience and adaptability. How gracefully the man took to pregnancy. The phrase ‘glowing’ has never been more true. “I will return shortly.” Holding the phone back up properly, he tears his eyes away from the tranquil sight that is his best friend and his son to speak to his faux daughter. “Tell me where you’re at and if you need me to bring a vehicle.”

The phone line cuts before she can get more than a sound out but her prayer comes through loud and clear. He’ll steal a car while they’re there.

Not wanting to go inside just yet, Dean soaks in the warmth of the day. Basking in the grace fueled feely goods that could never be replicated by any drug. The whole pregnant thing is still weird. He’s lucky that it’s a superficial thing made of heavenly voodoo and is reversible. That Jack isn’t constantly playing musical chairs with his organs or permanently giving him new plumbing to go with the internal baby holder. Although, his chest has been hurting for some reason. Tender around his nipples and wearing certain shirts are now just no-goes. Jack and Cas can’t find anything wrong with him, so it’s probably not related.

One thing that has changed is that he can eat anything he wants and not get a dad bod. Literally. He got the munchies something fierce when he and Jack had some extended tummy time. The munchkin had been in there going on three days and on that third day Dean had woken up starving and devoured half the fridge. Repeating that (having a baby belly for three days (he’d totally woof down a whole buffet again if he can)) isn’t on his lists of things to do ever again but it’s understandable since Jack had been a big boy for an entire month. Not going any younger than a three year old in all that time.

Right now he’s craving some pie but he’s too comfy to move. He can call Sammy. Flopping his arm out in the general direction of where he set his phone, and finding it on the fourth blind grab, Dean pulls up Sammy’s contact. Ah even if he tells the giant to bring home pie the bitch will probably forget and if he does remember he’ll have to wait. He wants pie now.

Sweet aromas waft to his nose as if predestined and low and behold there’s a cherry pie sitting right there on the blanket next to him. Crust perfectly flaky and golden, the lattice top providing a sneak peak to the bright red insides of cherries. Serving knife and fork right next to the damn thing. “Jack…”

Setting his phone down he reaches out and pokes the dessert. Crunchy crust crumbles and pressing his finger to the tin, Dean feels that it’s still warm. Like perfect for eating hot, not fresh from the oven lava bubbly. “Did you do that?” Spirited and eager for praise, gold shimmers pop like fireworks over his distended stomach. Grinning, Dean decides to ignore how the pie came to be and plopped it on his lap. “You’re now my favorite child.”

The kid does a happy wiggle in his kangaroo pocket and the hunter smiles as he digs in. Groaning as the gooey insides melt in his mouth. That’s the stuff, sweet and tangy. Half way through his treat, he winces massages at his pectorals. They’re hurting like he got punched in both tits, like a deep bruise that takes a full month to finally go away. Could he have pulled a muscle or something? Can you pull a muscle in your nipple?

It’s not that big a deal, maybe pester Cas about it again when he’s back with Clair. Holding one tit in hand, Dean continues to munch. If Jack stole this from somebody he’s got to see if the munchkin can yoink the recipe too. Speaking of yoinking, Cas isn’t back yet, guess he’s coming home the long way then. More time to laze about and set up a room for Hellcat. Grinning wistfully, the hunter recalls his first arrest for being a serial killer, and his subsequent addition to C.I.A’s most wanted list. Christ, then there was that time in prison; he spent more time in solitary and the infirmary than in his actual cell. Luckily, Clair will get to skip out going to lady prison. His next bite of pie goes sour in his mouth, appetite dropping as guilt worms its way into his gut. Adam.

Christ on a stick Adam. Swallowing down the mouthful, Dean fights the urge to immediately throw it all back up. Kid is still in the cage. He hates that he had to pick, both Sam and Adam deserved to be freed, but he had to choose one over the other or lose the opportunity all together. If he could, Dean would finagle another bargain with Death, but he’s pretty sure the timeless being would rather squish him like a bug then help him again.

Gnawing on the tines of the fork, Dean juggles a few possibilities around in his head. Rowena would turn them into toads for daring to ask for her help opening the Cage again. Chuck and Amara are MIA… again. Not that they really relied on them for anything. Those are pretty much their only options.

The futility of the situation drives Dean to seek comfort by smoothing his hands over the swell of the baby in his belly. Getting up to fold up the blanket and get everything back inside, Dean makes it to his feet when a bright golden glow flash bangs the shit out of the area.

Blinking the sunspots from his eyes, Dean comes face to face with Adam.

“Uuhhhh…”

“This…” Adam glances around the clearing before ending on Dean. Gaze dipping lower and eyes bulging at the sight of Dean’s ‘hitchhiker’. Feeling a bit self conscious, the hunter tries to tug his shirt down to cover his stomach a little more. The next thing Adam says makes his face combust. Milligan blinking, cheeks turning a bit pink as he avoids looking Dean in the eye. “oh. I didn’t know you were trans.”

“I’m not! It’s compli-” He can’t even get the words out to defend himself before his aching chest spasms, followed by a tingly itchy relief. Wet spots grow on his shirt over his nipples and it takes a long second for him to realize what’s happening. “shit- fuck!”

He’s dripping titty milk! This is all sorts of wrong! Jack better not get any ideas from this! Squatting down, he snags the blanket and wads it up in his arms, hiding his wet chest, and jabbing a finger at the discarded pie and utensils. “Grab those for me and follow me inside.”

Face burning red, Dean leads the way inside the bunker. Adam dutifully trotting after the older man even in his bewilderment. He chaperones his half brother to the kitchen then bolts through the bunker. Throwing the blanket in the direction of the laundry and waddling as fast as his bowed legs will allow to his bedroom.

Ripping a new shirt from the dresser, Dean rips the wet one off, cursing as he uses the trashed shirt to dab at his still dripping chest. Seriously what the fuck!? Guys aren’t supposed to be able to do this. “Jack, you’re now my least favorite child.”

He gets kicked from the inside for that, his bladder getting squashed and the urge to piss hits him like a truck. Holding his distended gut, the hunter speed walks out of his bedroom, mentally apologizing to the Nephilim and explains that he’s just frustrated and doesn’t really mean it.

In the hall he runs into Adam. Before he can make to scoot around the blond, Milligan’s eyes glow and he pokes Dean in the center of his chest. Instantly, the ache and tightness of his pecks is gone and the dripping milk dries out. The hunter opens and closes his mouth a few times as he struggles to get something out as his mind races. It’s not just Adam, Micheal is in there with him. The Archangel hasn’t done anything to harm him… yet. He (Adam and Micheal) just helped him out. Maybe Micheal will be chill? Lucifer isn’t a problem anymore and while the Angel might have daddy issues, they’ve already cleared up things with Chuck. The planet should be safe from becoming a wasteland.

If not then since Jack is apparently powerful enough to pull things out of the Cage, then his baby should be able to voodoo Micheal away if he threatens Dean.

Tugging the new shirt he still has in hand over his head, Dean jabs his thumb towards the kitchen. “Want something to eat?”

Adam perks up then immediately shrinks back as he takes a second to mull the offer over. The younger man shrugs at himself before asking, “You got burgers and fries?”

Half an hour later they’re sitting across from each other at the library’s table, Adam having tucked into his second burger as he listened to Dean check off all the big important events since Adam and Micheal ended up in the Cage.

The blond took a fingerful of fires and swiped them through the doctored up ketchup his apparent half brother whipped up. Humming around the sauced up fries, Micheal catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. {You know that stuff will kill you, right?}

Huffing a laugh through his nose at the Archangel, Adam takes another bite of salty fried potato goodness with red sauce. He didn’t know warming ketchup and throwing some other spices in it would ever taste so good, but Adam now knows he’s not going back to cold ketchup. Cholesterol be damned. It’ll take ages for unhealthy food to kill him naturally. He’s gonna enjoy it while he can. Even though right now he doesn’t technically need to eat since Micheal’s grace can sustain his mortal needs.

Still not really sure what they’re going to do with their whole situation. Swallowing down his mouthful, Adam glances over to the eldest Winchester who’s enjoying his own greasy deliciousness. “Okay so you made a deal with Death to get us out of the cage but he only allowed you to choose one. You went with Sam because you know and love him. Apocalypse avoided but other crazy shit happens. Lucifer gets out, has a kid, gets trapped in an alternate universe, and you’re pregnant with his kid.”

Dean purses his lips, eyes flicking back and forth over the ceiling before he nods. “Yeah that pretty much sums up what I just said.” Taking another bite of his burger and getting the oozing condiments smeared in the corner of his mouth.

{He’s not lying} Micheal’s apparition leans forward, brows scrunched together as he scrutinizes Winchester. {While I am glad to know the origins of the Nephilim. I still find its existence a concern. Especially since it is made from Lucifer.}

Adam understands the Archangel’s worry but doesn’t put as much stock in it as Micheal. All babies born innocent and all that. Plus it seems Jack’s biggest concern right now is being a baby and not following in his father’s footsteps. The blond taps his fingers on the table out of need of something to do. Scratching the bridge of his nose Adam fills the silence with a safer topic. “Condolences about your mom.”

Dean pauses in his chewing and stares at him for a beat before waving him off. “Couldn’t have asked her to go out any cooler.” There’s grief in his voice but it sounds old, well acquainted with. His mother being dead for the majority of his life then thrust back into it at the whims of ancient all powerful beings. Friends and family never last long. Death a substantial part of his existence. The brunet smiles, eyes creasing as he leans back in his chair, hand on his rounded belly. “Who else gets to say they sucker punched an Angel in the face and saved the day?”

Turning pain into humor as a coping mechanism. It’s something Adam noticed their dad doing when he visited. Playing off misfortune or morbid events with a joke and a smile. Seeing the same habit reflected in Dean sends a rock sinking down in the bottom of Adam’s gut. How fucked up their lives are because of some ‘Great Plan’. His and his Mother’s death, his subsequent resurrection, all because of the cursed Winchester bloodline and how good of a meat suit they make for the first Archangel.

{It’s not like that anymore.} Micheal sighs and rubs his hand over his forehead. Weary from a millennia of marching towards the climax of the story only for it to crumble and an unexpected part two to be released. {I’ve made peace with what’s happened and I’ve nowhere to return to. I’m merely following your lead now.}

Adam thinks the trope of ‘broken family of brothers’ has been used far too much. Buch of sons abandoned with no mothers to pick up the pieces. Might as well call the lot of them the Lost Boys. Bobbing his head in agreement to Dean’s words, the blond shoves a few more fries in his mouth. Speaking around his bite. “True.”

They sit in comfortable silence, as comfortable as they can be with how out of pocket this day has been. Going back to their burgers and cooling fries.

“So…” Dean starts after their quiet pause to polish off their plates. “Ya know what you wanna do with yourself- or well…” He gestures up and down at Adam. “yourselves.”

Sniffing and dashing the back of his hand under his nose real quick, Adam contemplates what’s in store for their future. “I mean I can’t go back to college, I’m legally dead. Micheal’s not too keen on returning to heaven, so he’s here for the long haul I guess. I’m homeless and all I have is the clothes on my back and a bit of pocket money.”

Really they didn’t think they would see the light of day so soon or at all after falling into the Cage. Hearing about what Dean did, choosing Sam over him, pissed Adam off for a hot minute but he begrudgingly understands Winchester’s reasoning. If Adam had to pick between his Mom and some dude he just met and was told is family, he’d pick his Mom one-hundred percent.

“We can get that fixed for you.”

Adam returns his attention to his half brother and raises an eyebrow. Micheal questions the context of the hunter’s statement, “Which part?”

“The being legally dead bit.” He says it like ‘duh what you’d think I was talking about’ as if that part was the easiest to fix, and stands to clear their plates. Adam quickly jumps up and collects the plates before the pregnant man can, trying to do the polite thing. Dean’s already cooked for him, the least he can do is clean. Micheal wills the plates clean and sends them back into the cabinet. Which sure, that takes care of the dirty dishes, but now both he and Dean are now left standing awkwardly.

Dean blinks and takes it in stride, leaning his hip on the table as he continues with what he was going to say. “Got a friend, Charlie, big fuckin’ nerd.” He smiles as he brings up his friend, obviously someone he’s very fond of. “She can paperwork you up and bring you back to life or make you a whole new identity if you wanna start fresh. Just don’t draw too much attention to yourself. Hard to explain the supernatural to the average joe. Here,”

The older man shifts and stretches, belly obscene in his too-short shirt, riding up over the pregnancy swell. It still boggles his mind that the half angel has already been born but gets unborn or whatever this is. Dean being transgender would have made way more sense. The hunter makes a grabby hand at Adam, beckoning him to follow as he heads down the living quarters hall. Talking over his shoulder as he goes. “I gotta make up a bedroom for Claire when she and Cas arrive. You guys can pick one out for yourselves while I’m getting the sheets washed.”

That fixes the homelessness part temporarily, he guesses he’s allowed to stay until this Charlie girl revives him in the eyes of the government. Not much else to do aside from wait for the other shoe to drop. Taking their time to peer into each room, Adam and Micheal note there’s not much of a difference to them aside from how far down the hall they are and distance from the communal bathroom. They settle on one closest to the lavatory and Micheal magics the thin layer of dust from the space.

{The Nephilim… I wish to interact with its grace. Assess whether or not its essence mirrors Lucifer’s.} Adam knows where Micheal is going with this and it sends an unpleasant cold sweat down his spine. While it was explained to him that Nephilim are akin to walking time bombs, he can’t separate the thought from the domestic image of Dean loving on his belly. The children’s toys in the living room, the hand drawn scribbles on the fridge, reminding him so vividly of his own childhood. How his mom still kept the family portrait he drew in first grade framed on the wall next to his graduation photo. {I’d rather cull the child while it’s vulnerable than wait for it to start wreaking havoc and igniting hell on earth.}

He might throw up.

His body is guided through the hallways, Adam understanding the importance of Micheal’s fears but not able to stomach the harsh reality that he might be walking out of here with two deaths on his hands, greater good or not.

Dean isn’t in the laundry room, no, Micheal directs him to a door numbered twenty-two. It’s partially opened and the blond can see Dean inside, swaying back and forth with a bundle in his arms; stomach flat. It’s blizzard seeing such a stark change, but before Micheal can retreat, come back when Jack is left unattended, the hunter calls out to them.

“You’re freaking out about Jack yeah?” Frozen in place, Adam swallows down the lump in his throat when Dean nudges the door open fully with his foot. The innocent, cherub-faced baby in his arms blinking up at the Archangel and vessel with sinless eyes. Wide with unadulterated inquisitiveness. “Heaven was up in arms about him too, stabbed the poor kid when he was two days old.”

“Even I tried to kill him.” Adam flinches, giving his half brother an incredulous look. The older man carefully brushes some of the baby’s downy soft hairs away from his chubby face. “But Jack is good. There’s none of his father in him, he’s a clean slate, and we’re trying to raise him the best we can.”

“Here, hold him.” And just like that the child is being adjusted into his arms.

Adam stares at the baby, unable to breathe as Micheal sends out a tendril of grace. Jack wriggles and babbles as his golden grace responds with curiosity. He refuses to take a breath at the risk of hyperventilating. Any second he could be holding a dead infant in his arms. Any second Micheal could decide Jack needs to die, and Adam can do nothing to stop it. Heart hammering in his chest, he wants to scream at Winchester to take the child back. He can hardly hear himself think of the blood rushing in his ears. Can’t move unless he wants to start violently shaking. He’s going to throw up.

Feeling air runs past his cheeks as he sways back and forth on the swingset. Uncle Sammy’s long arms great for tossing him up in the air and letting him fly like an airplane. Eating pb-jays with his friends at the park and trading half of his sandwich for m&ms. Uncle Sammy putting bandaids on his scraped knee while telling him about the time he broke his arm. Daddy reading him bedtime stories. Daddy talking to him inside Mommy’s and Papa’s tummies. Daddy taking him to watch nature, getting distracted by bees. Daddy showing him how to use grace and make it not so scary. Daddy listening to him talk about his day. Daddy teaching him everything he wants to know. Papa Dean kissing him good night. Papa Dean being there for the nightmares. Papa Dean taking him for drives. Papa Dean making him pancakes. Papa Dean singing to him and swaying to an inaudible beat. Papa Dean rebuilding the swedish crib Mommy wanted for him. Papa Dean Papa Dean Papa Dean

Micheal is overwhelmed by the sheer amount of parental love Jack knows and all the love he feels in return for his family.

So different from his Father demanding love and loyalty from them and giving nothing. Abandoning them when things began to fall apart.

He faints.

They’re sitting on the edge of their newly made bed, Adam’s elbows on his knees. They’re subjugating themselves to the Winchester’s hospitality for the indefinite future.

“Soooo…” Adam wipes his palms on his pants nervously. “we have a nephew.”

{So it would seem.}

“Kinda weird.” As if those two words can encompass the enormity of what they’re feeling.

{Very weird.}