Sam watches as Dean carefully adjusts the thin beige blanket around the shoulders of the tiny two year old who has made her home on his brother's lap. The slightly older child, who says she's four but held up five fingers to prove it, squirms to put her arm around her little sister. None of them, the little girls or Dean, pull their eyes away from the laptop screen where they are engrossed in watching My Little Ponies, Friendship is Magic, on Netflix while Sam makes phone calls trying to find somewhere safe for the tiny survivors of their latest monster hunt.
Sam smiles as Dean's cheek nuzzles the tops of the children's heads. He thinks how his brother's parenting skills were honed at an early age raising him, and how his rough and tumble brother looks natural holding children tenderly, like a life-sized Guardian Angel statue.
Sam's not going to say that out loud, though; Dean may hit him. Besides he would just think it's another hint of Sam wanting a "normal" life for him that he swears he doesn't want for himself. But it's not just that. It's admiration for a guy who taught him to walk, to talk, to ride a bike, and drive a car. The big brother who kissed his boo-boos better when he was little, and taught him to spar with tough love to help him stay alive when he was bigger. This guy - yeah, the one with some pretty big issues who's at least a borderline alcoholic – has so much love to give and would be a great dad.
The guys are in a crappy motel outside of Council Bluffs, Iowa, which is – fortunately – close enough to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, that Sam didn't hesitate to give Jody Mills a call. The Minnehaha County sheriff is making phone calls to child protective services, and then she's driving the three hours to pick up the children herself. Sam and Dean both agreed she would be the best person to help with this problem.
The children are the only survivors – their parents are presumably some of the dead bodies littering the Fairview Cemetery after a disastrous attempt to call and control the "Black Angel" who turned out to be a demon instead – and not one confined to a meatsuit, one of the kind that make you wonder if it were ever human. Sam and Dean had heard about the case and drove up from the MoL Bunker less than 200 miles away to send the fiend back to Hell. People searching for the water of life, conjuring spirits in a haunted cemetery, with just enough skill to bring a nightmare to life.
It was deadly stupidity. Worse, it was people who'd bring their kids along. When the encounter was over, the demon vanquished, the Winchesters were going to hop in the Impala and drive home, but they were stopped by hearing whimpering coming from the back seat of an old mini van parked in the cemetery. Peering inside, Sam found the two little girls. Dean coaxed them out of the van and into his arms.
"Dean, you can't just pick up little kids like stray kittens." Sam had said at the time, wincing at the harshness, but come on, his brother knew the police would be there soon enough. "Leave them here. They'll be fine." Sam's words set up a wail from the little girls being held in Dean's arms, and their arms tightened around his brother's neck. His brother's eyes told him there was no way he was leaving kids alone in a cemetery at night.
Dean gathered the little ones, cradled and sang to them, and had Sam drive them to a motel about thirty minutes from where police cars and crime scene vans were gathering. Away from where their parents lay like torn rag dolls. "They deserve better than being thrown into a system as nameless kids," Dean said in a voice that dared Sam to disagree.
Even after helping Dean get the kids into a motel room safely, stopping to pick up pull ups for the little one, snacks and milk, Sam has not regained the girls' trust. They are still fastened to his brother like leeches - cute, tousled dark hair, little leeches with big expressive brown eyes. And, yeah, as girly as it may sound, Sam wouldn't mind having a rug-rat or two of his own. His heart gives an extra thump at the idea, a yearning.
Plus, Dean really would make a great daddy, which would mean Sam could have nieces or nephews. Dean's all about family, right? Couldn't he see that carrying on the next generation is part of that? Doesn't Dean want to see the next generation of Winchesters?
"Hey, Sam, this Princess Luna character reminds me of Cas," Dean's voice is a rumbling whisper over heads of the children, his head craning around to meet his brother's hazel eyes. "She's like all wanting to do the right thing, but not knowing what that is and, umm, f-ing it up."
"Really, Dean? You're seeing Cas in a little girl's cartoon show? I dunno, Dean." Sam smirks indulgently at his brother.
Dean gives his brother a hard look. "It's not usually on my watchlist either smarta…" He catches himself again before finishing and smoothes his hand over a tiny head resting on his chest. "…smart alec. But I had'ta give them something to calm them down, so here I am. What did Jody say?"
"Jody says she'll be here in about three hours," Sam answers, moving to sit beside his brother on the couch. Then because he really can't help himself some times, Sam says, "You look good like that."
"Like what, Sam? Watching cartoons?" With a quick smile to take the sting from his words, Dean still manages to keep his voice low, but the older child turns and puts her fingers in front of his lips.
"Shhh…" The girl gives them a miniature version of a bitchface. Dean lifts one of his fingers to his mouth and nods his head. She squeaks and buries her head against him, and he pets her hair and whispers in her ear. She giggles and turns back to her show where Princess Luna is upset and turning back into Nightmare Moon. Dean fidgets a little, getting the sleeping younger one shifted more comfortably against him.
"Like this, Dean." Sam says, trying to keep his voice low. "You're so good with kids. You'd make a great dad."
Dean glares at Sam for a minute. Then he changes the subject. "Now you, little brother, are much more like Twilight Sparkle." He snorts. "She even lives in a library."
"She's a purple and pink unicorn, a child's toy, Dean. I think we've got more important things to talk about, don't you?" Sam doesn't know why he is being so insistent. It's obvious Dean wants to change the subject.
Dean quirks an eyebrow at his brother, and a grin splits his face. "Sammy, you sly dog. You know this show, these characters, and you haven't been watching closely enough tonight for it to be that. So, is this your guilty pleasure?" Dean's feeling pretty smug about it; God knows he's taken plenty of teasing from Sam about watching Dr. Sexy, M.D. At least that's for adults.
The blush travels up Sam's neck, into his face, and over his ears, leaving a familiar burn. "It has excellent writing, Dean, a good message of friendship and tolerance, and actual character development." Sam huffs. "I read some articles and just wanted to see what it was about." Maybe if he punches Dean in the nose his brother will stop laughing, sniggering actually, gasping and trying to be quiet. Tears are running down his face. Yes, Dean is lucky he has little kids sitting on him right now.
The older girl shushes them again, but it's the younger one murmuring sleepily and squirming that makes Dean stop. It takes a few minutes of rearranging and patting, humming and rocking, but she quiets again. Thumb in her mouth. Dean looks at her fondly. "Reminds me of you." He whispers to brother. "Dark curls and a thumb sucker. Dad used to get so mad, but I'd let you. You always seemed to sleep better."
When Dean looks over at Sam, he can tell his brother is still pissed off that he had been laughing at him. "Truce, Sammy. I really don't care. You're welcome to watch anything you enjoy – you know that. I was just surprised." Sam gives a little head nod, then leans back, stretching out his long legs in front of him, still watching his brother.
Dean cuts his eyes back toward Sam. "So, which one am I like? I'm kinda liking the blue flyer; what do ya think?"
"Rainbow Dash is a Pegasus. Her power is loyalty, so she may be a good one for you, Dean. But, maybe Applejack because she's all about family. I don't know though, her power is honesty." He gives his brother a half grin. "You've heard of that, right?"
Dean snorts, but quietly. The show is over, and both little girls are curled up sleeping on his lap. He's afraid to move too much and wake them. Sam realizes that his brother is actually stuck where he is as surely as if someone had him chained to the couch. No time like the present. "So, kids, Dean. Don't you want some?"
Dean looks pained. "Don't, Sam. Been there, done that, and screwed it up royally. I can't, man. This is no life for children. It's too dangerous. Being around me gets people killed." He looks sad and alone when he says that, and Sam wants, so deeply, to make things better for his brother, to give him hope for the future.
Sam thinks about what he's going to say. Dean told him once if he ever mentioned Lisa or Ben's name to him again, Dean would punch him. He knows Dean remembers telling him that as clearly as Sam remembers it, and he knows Dean meant it. He also knows losing Lisa and Ben, having their memories of him erased, is one of those things Dean has buried rather than deal with, making it a festering mess inside. So, how can he bring it up now?
And maybe Dean really can actually read his brother's mind because he looks over and says, "Don't even think about saying it, Sam. The past is the past, and we can't fix it….I can't fix it. I almost got them killed."
"If we weren't hunting, we could still maybe have a family." Sam is determined to get this out. "We're not too old. Maybe you could have a little girl." If he hadn't been watching his brother closely, Sam might have missed that flash of anguish that flitted across his brother's face before being hidden. "What, Dean? Tell me."
"Done that too, brother." Dean's voice is ragged, and he closes his eyes, but Sam sees the tell-tale shine before he does and the reason behind it leaves him gasping like he was punched in the gut. Dean doesn't…he couldn't…
"No, Dean. She wasn't really. She was a monster. She was going to kill you." Sam chokes out the words, sorrow and guilt tightening his throat until he thinks he is being strangled.
Dean gives a small chuckle, one that has no humor in it. "Yeah, she was all of that." He agrees, voice sounding low and hollow. "…And she was my daughter."
They wait in silence after that until Jody arrives.
