Happily 'Family' After.
Disclaimer: Kripke own everything Supernatural related, I am merely playing in his sandbox.
Chapter One: Not according to plan.
" He's got a rolled cigarette, hanging out his mouth he's a cowboy kid.
Yeah he found a six shooter gun.
In his dads closet hidden in a box of fun things, and I don't even know what.
But he's coming for you, yeah he's coming for you ."-Pumped Up Kicks.
The plan had been easy enough 'sounding.' Cas would angel-mojo them inside, Sam, Dean and Bobby would then kick ass while Castiel gathered information during their distraction. Easy enough plan, like he said. So naturally when they got inside and it was an ambush and they'd ended up side by side tied to water pipes while Castiel stood helplessly in a ring of holy fire, why none of them had been expecting this was the question on everyone's lips.
"Of course," Sam snapped tetchily, head flopping back against the water pipe behind him with a loud 'thwunk.'
Dean blinked, sweat stinging his eyes. Of all of them, Dean was the furthest away from the oversize swimming pool roiling and bubbling and filled to the brim with an opaque substance that smelled suspiciously like strawberry even from where he sat. He couldn't even imagine how poor Cas felt, who stood awkwardly within the confines of holy fire not three inches away from said goo.
"What?" Dean slurred wearily, head still fuzzy from being forced to eat cement until he was sure his face was nothing more than a bloody smear on the floor.
"I said of course. Of course this would happen on our first job with Castiel back. You're like a walking disaster magnet." The younger hunter hissed, looking as though he wanted to flail if not for the restraining ropes. Dean tried to scowl at him, which proved awkward and painful from his position.
"Hey! Pot, Kettle." he huffed out indignantly before another upsurge of pain clouded over his vision, breath burning in his throat.
"Would you both shut up? With the amount you both whine like a bunch'a little girls I'm surprised you actually get any hunting done." Bobby barked out from somewhere between the two brothers, ending any comeback that Sam might have had. Dean couldn't help but feel a little victorious. Until he realised he'd just been called a little girl and then he broke into what he swore was a scowl but looked more like a pout.
Over the ominous 'glub-glubbing' of the goop churning and rolling around in the pool like it was a live, Sam's muttered 'he started it' was enough to break the short silence.
"You were the one that kicked open the door!" Dean found himself gritting out, wincing as the action caused his side to flare with pain. It was then he remembered that he had been all but milled into the flooring by an oversized foot and he possibly had broken ribs, so aggravating them probably wasn't a good idea.
"Dean… are you okay?" Sam suddenly didn't sound so snarky.
"I'm fine," the older Winchester wheezed obstinately.
"This isn't... isn't the worse that's happened to me, Sammy," But wow, he really shouldn't have tried a sentence because that fucking hurt and now every breath he unwilling took felt like fire to his throat and lungs and, just, oh god the pain. If it wouldn't have caused him more pain, Dean might have groaned his discomfort.
"Dean! Can you just… not act like a fucking hero for five seconds? No wait, silly me, I should've known that a simple 'having your body compressed against solid cement repeatedly' wouldn't stop you from being a complete ass," Sam spat with no real venom, concern lacing the words despite how harsh they might have sounded. Dean couldn't help but grin, fighting down the chuckle that threatened to bubble over.
"Bitch." He mumbled. Smiling wider when he heard a soft, almost wobbly.
"Jerk."
"As much as I hate to interrupt the love-fest, ladies, it might interest you to know that the pool is over bubbling and that white sludge is heading right at us!" All four heads snapped to where, surely enough, that disgusting roiling, wiggling mass of slop was jiggling it's way over towards them.
"On a high note, at least the demons are gone, right?" Dean tried to brighten the mood. Only it didn't work because he could almost feel the glares being shot his way. All three hunters renewed their violent struggles against the ropes, Dean needing to bite down on his lip to contain the sounds of pain he knew he would be making giving the choice. Joy slowly began to unfurl one peel at a time as the ropes compressing Dean's movements began to give, little by little.
"What the fu- argh! Dean. Dean! It's touching me! Oh god it's touching me in ways I am not comfortable with." Sam's panicked yelp echoed through the building not seconds later. For a moment there was awkward silence and then a hesitant.
"Touching you? Like.." Bobby sounded half curious half horrified.
"Like there is a glob of it worming up my legs and… it's in my pants! Oh God it's in my pants. Guys, help! Rape!" Sam's voice got higher with every word, ending in a squeals that could have put a little girl to shame.
"Oh balls." Bobby hissed, jerking in vain against his robes.
"Dean, please tell me you have a little leeway over there." The older grumbled, sounding a little off-key. Dean realised with a jolt that the glue like sludge had already extended across the floor and made it to Bobby. One harsh tug that had tears springing to his eyes, and Dean's left hand was free, working frantically to free the other.
"…Dean. I also find the nature in which this viscous liquid is touching me… uncomfortable." Castiel's voice caused Dean to freeze for a moment, mind struggling not to come up with images of the angel being molested by flubber.
"Hang on just a bit longer guys." He panted, almost free when he spotted a tendril of the milky goo sliding across the floor towards him. Jerking his foot out of reach as the 'thing'- yes it was now officially a thing because liquids did not move like the where actually alive!- arched up off the ground and extended towards his boot.
"Easy for you to say." Sam squeaked breathily just as Dean was shrugging out of his ropes, snatching up his fallen knife. Leaping out of range, the older Winchester sidled along the back wall and carefully cut the binding holding Bobby, and then Sam who sprang up and with almost hysterical movements began tearing at his clothes. Last was Cas, who was still trapped within the ring of holy fire, while a large amount of the gunk wiggled and wormed under the angels clothing as he struggled. Shucking out of his jacket, Dean laid it over the flames and beat at it with his foot until Cas was able to hastily step through. After managing to fight off the last of the goo clinging to them with surprising tenacity, they beat a hasty retreat, wisely setting the warehouse on fire before leaving.
No one said a damned word as the car floored towards their hotel, jumping over ever bump in the road and dipping into every pothole. Dean was fighting off waves of pain, which periodically licked flames up over his ribs by the time they got there. Sam flew out of the passenger side and into the room without a word. Bobby tore ass out of the back seat and into the room next to theirs. Almost in complete synch, Dean heard shower pipes screech to life and smirked as he limped into the room with a little help from Cas. Once on the bed, the angel laid a hand over the hunter's chest and just like that the pain was gone. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Dean flopped against the bed limply, arm thrown over his eyes while Cas stood by the bed awaiting further orders. Since his 'trip to the dark side' the poor angel had been hanging off Dean's every word, guilt apparent in his every action. Sighing, Dean peeled the arm away from his eyes and blinked at ex-God.
"You should go shower." He stated. Normally this request would have been met with confused resistance. The ever obligatory 'But I do not require bathing' all but drilled into Dean's very being. However Cas merely nodded mutely before leaving the room in a flurry of flapping wings. The shower started in the vacant room above theirs just as Dean was rolling over to bury his face in the cheap hotel pillow. Slowly relaxing against the thin mattress and pokey springs beneath, Dean settled down with the intention of catching a few z's while the others scrubbed themselves pink for a few hours. He was just starting to drift when three perfectly simultaneous cries of dismay had him sitting up and blindly fumbling for his gun. Rushing to the bathroom, Dean spared a moment to knock before he charged in.
"Sammy, are you okay in there?"
There was no response, only the barest of sniffled whimpers from within. Gripping his gun, Dean backed up, lifted a foot and kicked open the door, spinning into the room with a flourish.
"Aaah!" Came a high pitch screech from the shower.
"Argh!" Was Dean's oh so witty response, green eyes wide and zeroed in on the recoiling child currently huddled in the very corner of the shower, big brown eyes watery and terrified as they stared at Dean. Two more terrified wails drew Dean's attention. One from next door and one from the room above. Bobby and Cas. Oh. Oh shit
Three hours, a trio of sniffling, trembling miserable looking children and a multitude of failed angel and demon summons later, Dean was still blinking almost angrily at the tiny people who refused to either disappear like a bad dream or illusion or revert back into their proper selves. Fives year old Sammy sneezed, floppy brown hair still slightly damp under the cocoon of towelling he was wrapped up in. Dean really needed to get these kids some clothes. However in order to buy them clothes, he needed to take them shopping, which involved them having clothes that fit to begin with, which defeated the purpose of him needing to go shopping in the first place, and argh, it was all very frustrating. Chewing his lip, Dean paced the room, fingers laced behind his head in mock concentration, green eyes narrowed on the tiny sets of eyes following his every move curiously. Little Castiel yawned widely, blue orbs drooping as he leaned against Sam's shoulder, fatigue beginning to show on his features. Shit. Dean couldn't very well let them sleep in wet towelling, nor did he want them to have to sleep nude.
Mumbling, Dean dived into his and Sam's rucksacks, pulling out shirts and tossing them all onto the bed. Castiel was picking idly at one of Sammy's pink polo's while Sam looked at the bundles of items seemingly uncomprehendingly. Bobby just seemed to sit there and not really care. Taking a deep breath, the hunter crossed the room with determination and began to riffling through the mount of clothing; holding up each one to the boys one at a time. Bobby, with his slightly bigger build and soft puppy fat, ended up drowning in one of Sam's button up t's looking down at the arms which sagged pitifully on the ground. Dean very carefully rolled them up to that the little guy should see his hands, before nodding and tackling Bobby into bed, under the blankets. Apparently, even at five, Bobby Singer was disagreeable by nature.
"Brat" He growled affectionately.
Sam and Castiel where roughly about the same size, but where Sam was all gangly limbs and long legs, Cas was slightly softer looking, less ungainly and more proportioned. Unlike Bobby who had just sat there and let Dean choose what to wrestle onto the tiny child, Sam held up a blue shirt of Dean's hopefully as the older approached. Dean helped Sam get his arms into the right holes before rolling up the sleeves and helping the child crawl under the blanket to curl against the other boy already tucked in. Cas was last, and when Dean approached to dress him, his head popped out of the nest of linen much like that of a tortoise, watching the hunter shuffle through the clothes. After all three of the boys where finally dressed, somewhat, and tucked away safely in bed, Dean turned out the lights, grabbed a six pack from the fridge and headed out to the impala for a little impromptu drinking.
Even with a beer in hand, the Impala still slightly warm and comfortable against his back and the stars twinkling above, Dean felt lost. Everyone he knew that could help him out of this mess was in the room, helpless and counting on him to figure out how to fix this. Fighting down a wave of hysteria, the Winchester took a large mouthful of his beer. Then another and another. By the time Dean finally did retire to the hotel room he was past drunk and as soon as his head hit the pillow he was out like a light.
Chapter End.
So, let me know if you liked it or not. I have a lot of idea with this one. Can't wait to hear all your feedback.