Home Visits

by di.meliora

Dean Winchester is in the process of adopting a daughter when a government worker throws his delicately balanced world off its axis. AU Unrelated.

A/N: Just something I was working on in between chapters of Polaris. Soundtrack is Jack Johnson's "Little Girl", "Flake", and "Breakdown". Because I'm on a Johnson kick to combat my Wombats obsession.

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Dean walked into the bedroom to find her, and Hannah kept her head down and her kinky curly hair in her face. He knew the instant he saw her down-turned face that something was wrong, and the way she moved out of his reach when he laid a hand on her shoulder only confirmed it. He took a deep breath and then knelt beside her. She didn't move away, so he reached out hesitantly and then pushed the mass of hair away from her face. Both big brown eyes tracked him carefully, and he traced one rough fingertip along the caramel colored skin beneath her split lip. Hannah was fighting to look defiant, but the uncertainty there gave her away.

"What happened kiddo?" He sounded rougher than he planned, but she didn't flinch so he guessed she got that it wasn't directed at her.

"I was-" she glanced away and then steeled her features. When she did that she somehow managed to look much older than twelve despite her short stature. "Terry Gordon."

Terry Gordon was the school bully. Between him and his bitchy sister Hannah had gotten more disciplinary slips than Dean cared to consider. It was bad news for a kid like her. He let that sit for a second before he broached the big subject. "What'd he do now?" If Dean had his way the kid would grow up real fast so that Dean could kick his ass.

"It doesn't matter. He got recess taken away for a day and I lost recess for a week." Her grim face told him that she hadn't expected any better treatment than that, and Dean's rage went up a notch.

"What did he do Hannah?" If it was justified he'd go down to the school and argue. It wouldn't be the first time.

"He told me that only faggots like you and Jason would want a half-breed like me." She licked around the split and looked towards the window, and Dean saw the longing in them to go outside with the heaps of wrecked cars. "So I punched him."

Dean swallowed the pride at that and rubbed her shoulder gently before standing. "Ok. I'm going to the school tomorrow. They can't keep punishing you worse than this little son of a bitch."

She didn't look away from the window. "I shouldn't have done it Dean. The DSS lady comes today and she's gonna ask about it. She always asks about it." Her face was morose now, and Dean wanted to hug her but they didn't really do that much. Instead he rubbed at the back of his neck and watched her eyes move along the shine of cars until they settled on the one he knew she liked best. He liked it best too even if seeing it made him ache.

"You had lunch yet?" She glanced his way then, and he saw the glint in the back of her brown eyes before she got it under control and stood. She brushed the cloud of her hair back and shook her head once. "Mac and cheese or ramen?"

Hannah's focus landed on his face for a long second, and he waited for her to finish looking for whatever it was she wanted to see before she gave him a tremulous smile. "Mac and cheese. Jason only got chicken ramen."

So Dean went into the kitchen and listened to her slump into a seat behind him as he filled the pot and considered how to explain to Maria Leeman the social worker why Hannah had gotten into her third fight this school year. Hannah was right; it didn't look good. Ms. Leeman had it out for Dean and for Hannah, and there was no questioning that if she could use this against them she would. The bitch would never admit it, but she was part of the bigoted authority that thought Dean wasn't fit to adopt, and he didn't need to help her prove it. Still, why was Hannah expected to take abuse from little snots like Terry Gordon?

He glanced over his shoulder once and saw that Hannah had spilled salt onto the table and was drawing little patterns in it. He couldn't help the smile, and he turned back to the boiling pot and added the noodles before he spoke. "You throw a pinch over your shoulder Hanners?"

He heard the intake of breath at the nickname. "It's Hannah, Dean, and of course I did." He chuckled once and watched the noodles soften. "Jason decide what he's gonna do with your hair this time?"

It was a sore subject and Dean knew it, but they couldn't avoid it. Every time the social worker came Jason insisted on fucking with her hair until he had it just the way he liked it. She argued constantly, and Dean had yet to figure out if her argument was with the lengthy process of getting her hair under control, or simply Jason touching her. Even after two years she still could barely let Jason near her. Dean was the only adult she'd ever gotten comfortable with, and the fact made him sad and proud all at once. She grumbled something and he turned her way and cocked an eyebrow.

"He wants to straighten it. I told him no, so he's gonna comb it out." She frowned petulantly and wiped the salt back into a uniform pile. "He'll do what he wants anyway."

Dean drained the noodles and added the butter and milk before the cheese powder. She waited until after he'd put the bowl in front of her and started constructing the roast beef sandwich she preferred to speak again. "Why don't you fix my hair?"

He spread the mustard thin and then plated the sandwich and put it in front of her before sitting down in the opposite seat. "You know I never do it right. I just put it in a ponytail."

She nodded once before stuffing her mouth with mac and cheese and mumbling through it. "I like ponytails."

The other member of their mixed little unit stepped in with a frown on his face.

"Well that's all good and well Hannah, but it looks a mess in those ponytails. Now finish lunch and do your homework so I can get started. How was your day Dean?"

Dean studied Jason for a long moment before making a face at Hannah to put the smile back on her. "Fine. Actually finished that damn Camaro." Jason gave him a disapproving look and he nodded once and tried to fake an abashed expression.

Hannah left half the bowl of mac and cheese and three-fourths of the sandwich behind and slid out of the kitchen and around Jason before anyone could say anything else. Jason gave him a look and took her empty seat. "She gets worse all the time Dean. She doesn't respect me at all. I don't think she even likes me."

Maybe if you didn't make her feel like there's something wrong with her…

"She's in a weird age Jason. She'll get over it." He tilted his head and took in the power tie. "You plannin' on going back to the office?"

Jason nodded once and pushed the mac and cheese away. "I'll probably have to miss the interrogation. Sorry."

Dean bit back a comment and took Hannah's plate and bowl away. He considered boxing the food up and then tossed it instead. She needed to eat more, but in the mood she was in that was highly unlikely. More importantly Jason missing his third interview in a row would only feed Leeman's case against him. They needed to provide at least the image of stability. "It's fine. She'll give me the same look she always does with you here or not."

Jason left without saying anything else.

Tomorrow was the two year mark, and tonight they would have what was officially their sixth interview in the long series leading up to potential adoption. Dean had fostered before, and every time it had been a temporary thing. He had a way with the difficult kids, the delinquents, and usually after a few months they went to a permanent placement. It had been the way he wanted it, and Jason had thought it was adorable that Dean gave so much of his time to troubled orphans.

Hannah had been the exception. From the word go she had been more of a challenge than any kid Dean had ever met, and she'd never taken to Jason. Never really taken to anyone. He remembered the leader of the group home meeting his eyes and saying, "This one is beyond even you Dean. She'll just stay here until she's old enough to go off on her own."

Except she hadn't. She'd gone home with Dean three days later, and she'd never left. It was the first time he wanted a kid to stay forever, and Hannah seemed perfectly pleased with that.

He worked on the books after that, and while it wasn't his favorite chore it kept him busy. The salvage yard was doing fine, and the shop was safely in the black so that was good. He glanced once at the old picture of Uncle Bobby with an arm slung around his shoulders, and then jerked when he heard the shouting coming from the bathroom. Dean made double-time to find Hannah glaring at Jason while she rubbed at the mass of her curls.

Jason sent him an aggrieved look before turning back to her. "I just want it to look pretty Hannah. Don't you want to be pretty like the other little girls in your class?"

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and flexed one fist. Hannah's face turned murderous. "If you wanted a pretty little girl with straight hair maybe you should have picked one." She spun on one heel and ran, and Dean stood perfectly still. Arguing with Jason wouldn't do anything, so instead he waited for the inevitable tirade. It came seconds later.

"I don't think this is going to work Dean. I've tried everything, I really have, but she's just-God she's so difficult."

He took a deep breath and then smoothed his hands along his jean-clad thighs. "We knew it wasn't going to be easy Jason. Her history-"

"I'm not her fucking father." It dropped between them like a bomb, and Dean stared at Jason for a long time looking for some sign of guilt or remorse at the words. When it didn't come he nodded and turned away.

"You're right. You're not her father."

He found her half-in the Impala, fingers dragging along the cracked leather and eyes dry and red. It was her way of crying, and he settled in the dirt near her without touching her.

"He's just-he's trying kiddo."

She made a face but didn't look up. "He's not good enough for you."

Dean took that in and absorbed it, and then leaned forward and stopped the course of her hand. "I kinda like him a lot."

Hannah still didn't look up. "He doesn't like me Dean. He'll want me to leave."

He wanted to tell her it wasn't true, but he knew it was. Instead he went with what he could say honestly, because she'd know if he lied. "I'm not letting anyone make you leave except for you."

She shot him a look, and then pushed her way out of the Impala and put her hands on his shoulders. They were eye-to-eye this way. "You can't fight the government Dean." Dean pulled her into a hug, let her bury her little face into the thick skin under his ear. It was her favorite spot, and Dean knew why. She pulled back and looked away, and there was that expression again. The one that made her look like she was thirty. "Somebody's here."

They crossed the yard slowly, side by side without touching, and Dean sucked in a breath when he saw the man on the porch. The guy was Ihuge/I, had to have at least two inches on Dean and that gave him about five on Jason. He was broad too, bones built to be covered by muscle, and Dean would have appreciated that if he didn't feel Hannah practically plaster herself against his leg. He put one comforting hand on her shoulder and took a half-step closer. Watched the guy's eyes dance over the scarring visible above the neck of his shirt, stretching to just under his ear. He didn't ask, but Dean figured it would come eventually. It always did. In the meantime there'd be that polite eye-dance people did when they tried to avoid looking at it.

Jason shot her a look and then turned to the Sasquatch in front of him. "That's Dean and Hannah. I've got to go Mr. Campbell, but it was a pleasure meeting you." Jason shook the man's hand once, caught Dean's eye and then crossed over to the two of them. "Maria quit. This is the new guy. Good luck." He didn't say goodbye to Hannah, just dropped a kiss on Dean's jaw and headed for his car. Dean watched him leave before turning back to the guy on the porch. He tried to control his temper. What were they thinking sending a behemoth like this to meet with her?

"Hello. I'm Sam Campbell. You must be Dean Winchester." The guy descended the steps easily, one huge hand reaching out even as his long legs crossed the space between them. Dean took the hand, shook it with a grip slightly firmer than necessary, and then stepped back carefully to not trip over Hannah. He leaned slightly down and rubbed her shoulder.

"Hanners, go get your papers ok? School stuff and everything." She nodded once wordlessly and practically flew past the big social worker and up the stairs. Dean waited until she was fully gone to turn his attention back to the new guy. "You're who DSS sent in place of Maria?" He couldn't help the gruff sound to his voice. Honestly he was angry enough to shout, so a rough tone was taking it easy on the guy. The man's eyes widened, and Dean had the presence of mind to appreciate the shifting blues and greens in them before he hardened his own gaze.

"Yes. Is that a problem Mr. Winchester?" The guy shifted awkwardly, and Dean realized his estimate was wrong. Campbell was slouching, purposefully trying to make himself smaller.

He snorted instead of cursing. "You even read the file before you showed up here?"

Campbell's hands moved nervously over the messenger bag slung across his shoulder and he eyed Dean for a long time before he spoke. "The case file literally hit my desk this morning. I didn't really have time. Can you tell me what the issue is?" He sounded like he was straining for calm, and Dean tried to control his temper as best he could. The guy wasn't to blame. Bureaucracy was a bullshit thing.

"I'll let you read it. Meantime do me a favor and don't try to shake her hand ok? Hannah has an issue with big guys. Especially big white guys."

Campbell's eyes moved over him appraisingly and then moved to the doorway. "Understood. Can I come in Mr. Winchester?" It was a formality and Dean knew it. Home visits were no joke, and the guy had full access to anything he wanted to look at. He nodded like it was a real question though and led the social worker into the house. They did a quick tour of the downstairs and then Dean led the man to the kitchen and gestured to the table.

"Have a seat. I was making spaghetti. Hope you're not a vegetarian."

Campbell raised an eyebrow, and then Hannah came in and plopped the stack of report cards and schoolwork down in front of him. She had papers clutched in her left hand, and Dean dreaded what was coming next. It was going to be hard for her, but there wasn't much he could do about that. If she wanted his comfort she'd push for it. Instead he began to run water for the noodles, dumped the sauce in a pan and seasoned it, and then started the next burner to fry the hamburger meat. Jason complained about it a good deal, but left to their own devices he and Hannah would eat nothing but meat and starch for every meal.

He heard her clear her throat almost aggressively before she started speaking, and he was proud that her voice came out mostly level. "These are my essays. You people don't quote me right, so these go in my file. Ms. Leeman always puts them in my file."

Dean glanced over and saw the way Campbell's second eyebrow arched to join his first, saw the half-smile as if he couldn't believe what Hannah was saying. It earned him a suspicious glare, and then she came over and settled in near Dean while Campbell started looking through the school documents she'd handed him. There was silence for a while as he cooked and she stayed against the counter near him. Shortly before the timer went off for the garlic bread Hannah grabbed the stool and started pulling out plates and cups from the cabinet.

He always fought the urge to help her. The stool was his version of negotiation. Hannah refused to be useless through the whole process, but her height made it impossible for her to help normally. He wondered sometimes how tall she'd be if she'd had better caretakers before him. He grabbed the bread from the oven and dropped it into a bowl before draining noodles and stirring the meaty sauce. "Everything in order?"

Campbell looked up from the paperwork and nodded before taking in the meal headed his way. Hannah pushed his plate with the silverware on it towards him and then set her jaw. "To drink?"

The social worker gave her a soft smile before speaking. "Water's good. Thanks Hannah."

When they'd all settled Dean watched the man load his plate, saw the way his eyes darted around, and immediately reached for the fridge door and pulled out one of the pre-made salad bags Jason favored. He lifted it and saw the relief in Campbell's eyes. Without a word he loaded a bowl, dug through the door calling out dressing names, and then deposited it and the bottle of Italian on the table before sitting back down.

To avoid the first awkward moment they'd had with Maria Dean took a huge bite of spaghetti. Campbell watched him and then speared some salad. "Thanks for this Mr. Winchester."

Dean cocked a brow and licked sauce off his lips. "For what?"

"The salad. I'm kind of a girl that way." There was a noise, and when Dean turned Hannah was laughing behind one hand. He studied her and then turned back to see Campbell had taken a big bite of salad and purposefully put it between his front teeth. He watched the way plush lips curved upwards, the dimples forming, and the multi-colored eyes dancing as the social worker took in Hannah's laugh.

Something he hadn't known was tight unclenched inside of him, and Dean leaned back into his seat and smiled. "Yeah well, I live with two girls I'm sorta used to it by now."

Campbell spent the dinner asking Hannah about her school, the house, and what Dean and Jason did for a living. When dinner was over he patted his flat stomach once and then stood. "Dinner was excellent. Thank you both. I'll see you again in a few weeks?"

Dean paused in the act of clearing the plates and looked up. Hannah's eyes were wide and round, and she hid her expression by letting her hair fall in front of her face as she picked up glasses.

"Yeah. Let me walk you out." He patted Hannah once and followed the big social worker to the door. They paused on the front porch, and Dean took in the night sky before speaking. He kept his eyes up though. "Thanks for that. Not making a big deal and everything."

Campbell made a noise and shifted beside him on the creaky boards. "I didn't think she'd be comfortable having a one-on-one interview. Maybe after we've built up a rapport."

He nodded once, not even sure if the guy was looking. "Yeah well. Thanks. We'll see you again in a few weeks Mr. Campbell?"

Dean looked then, saw that same smile, and hardened himself against it. "Call me Sam Mr. Winchester. Same time ok?"

"Dean. It's Dean. And yeah that's fine. Maybe Jason will even get to stay."

An odd look crossed Sam's face and disappeared almost instantly. "Hey uh, what's the best way to get out of here?" Sam gestured towards the car Dean hadn't even noticed, and the words came unbidden from his lips before he could help himself.

"In a real car would be a good start." He glanced at Sam once, saw that the smile had deepened, and then looked back at the beat-up old Ford Tempo parked next to his truck. "Sorry, uh, just back up and head out straight. Shouldn't be too taxing on your shocks."

Sam nodded, shook Dean's hand again, and then headed down the steps without another word. He watched the social worker go and then turned around and went back into the kitchen to find Hannah on the stool pre-rinsing dishes. He dutifully took a spot beside her and started placing them in the dishwasher. "He seem ok?" He kept his tone light and casual. She scrubbed at a plate without looking up.

"He never tried to ask you 'bout the scars." She handed him the plate and he placed it carefully in the washer.

"I didn't notice." Dean let his eyes glance over her and saw the way her lips curved upwards just slightly, the split one painful looking but moving. "'Cause you were too busy looking at how pretty he was."

Dean dropped the glass he was holding, saw her tense, and tried for jocular. "Eh, I think he was two glasses pretty. Don't you?"

Her muscles released and she finished rinsing the last pot. "Maybe. He liked your butt when you went for the salad dressing."

There was a long silence, and then Dean leaned past her and took the sprayer, engaged it, and turned it on her.

He spent thirty minutes cleaning up the water under Jason's mutters and head shaking. It was worth it for five minutes of shrieking laughter, and a face fully lacking in shadows. As he lay in bed that night, one hand on Jason's hip and the other tucked under his heed he considered the ceiling. She was right, Sam had never asked about the scars. Most people waited twenty or thirty minutes before finding a way to broach the subject. The only person to ever just outright ask him was sleeping two rooms over and hopefully having good dreams.

"Who burned you?" He remembered the weight in her eyes as she asked. Her face so serious and sad. She'd been sitting alone on the monkeybars, the other kids ignoring her and playing while Dean studied her from inside. Jason had come with him that day, and Dean didn't miss the way he was looking over two little blonde girls playing in the corner. They'd talked about this, and it was going to be the first time they fostered a kid together. More importantly it was the build-up to potential adoption, a choice they had yet to agree on. He'd been issued the challenge, and crossed the yard just to find out what it was that supposedly he couldn't handle.

He didn't miss the way her clothes were two or three sizes too big for her, and how haunted and bruised her eyes looked. He didn't miss the way she didn't make contact with him beyond seeing the scar and commenting on it, or how obvious a ploy it was to make him angry and run him off. Now, two years later, he mouthed the words he'd said that day. "Crazy man burned my house down when I was your age. I got hurt in the blaze."

Her eyes had flickered his way, dark chocolate set in the smooth light brown skin. "My father was a crazy man."

Dean had leaned against the bars and looked out across the rolling landscape with her. "He burn you kid?"

She'd flinched once and then straightened defiantly. "Yeah. He burned me. Didn't you read it in the folder?"

He didn't wince, but he'd wanted to the minute she responded. It had been meant to be light, to dispel the mood of his confession and her reply. "I never read those things. Prefer oral stories."

It had been something about that admission that made her relax, had her leaning back agains the bars and staring back into the empty space leading to trees. Two more visits and she was coming home with them over Jason's strained and unsure look.

She told him the story half a year later, gasped out between sobs, but in a monotone that still scared him to this day. Jason snorted and rolled over beside him, and Dean removed his hand and tried to go to sleep.

---

Sam meant to read the file the minute he got home. The kid had been different, and Maria's sticky note had warned him that this would be difficult. To be specific the older woman had said Hannah was the most vexing case she'd ever had. After he got the kid to calm down though she'd seemed perfectly pleasant, and Sam was honestly kind of charmed by the little face glaring at him as she handed hand-written essays over. So yeah, reading the file was high on his list, but his case load had tripled with Maria's sudden departure and things got busy.

It was four nights later as he opened a beer that his eyes landed on the thick file folder and he flicked it open expecting to see the usual long story regarding terrible parents and a close-call with destitution or hospitalization. She had the look about her that kids often had after a few years of drunken beatings. What greeted him first was a stack of those essays, reaching back two years and put into careful chronological order. He turned them over and then found the beginnings of a police report. The glossy photos attached took his breath away, and Sam sat down on the chair and dropped his beer onto the table. Hannah's image in the pictures was haunting. A few inches shorter and dangerously malnourished, her eyes looked emotionlessly back at the camera. They'd stripped her down to her underwear for the shots, and Sam had to grip the table at the sight. She was covered in scars and fresh cuts, big mottled bruising at her throat suggested an adult hand, and an old scar in the clear shape of a cross adorned the flesh of her chest. It was the eyes though, dark and empty, that almost killed him.

Words jumped out from the report. Signs of long-term abuse…father performed multiple exorcisms…tearing and repeated entry…acute stress disorder. He flipped through the report and found the story. Neighbors heard screaming, called the police, officers came out and found the mother dying, the father choking his daughter. Community in an uproar over such a respected person as the reverend doing such a thing. The story unfolded from there, and Sam read the reports from the therapists they'd talked her into seeing, the doctors, and eventually Maria. Two unsuccessful foster family placements before Dean Winchester, a history of fighting, and an extreme fear of men.

He slipped back to the essays and started on those. The first one was written in a shaky hand, more diary entry than anything else.

My name is Hannah. I have no parents but I live with Mr. Winchester. His name is the same as a gun. Mr. Winchester makes me eat pancakes in the morning. I told him I don't eat brekfast but he says I gotta. That I'll get bigger if I do. I said I like beef ramen and he bought a whole box of it and I told him he's stupid cause it musta cost a lot of money. He said it didn't. He may be a liar.

The next one was a little more stable.

Mr. Winchester got upset cause it was my birthday yesterday and I didn't tell him. I said it was in the folder with what was wrong with me. He said he didn't read it but I didn't beleeve him. I think he was telling the truth tho cause he was real unhappy. He said too that nothing is wrong with me. He asked me why I didn't say nothing when we didn't celebrate but I said I never celebrate it. He looked real sick and he left for a few minutes and we went to a place called an arcade and he taut me to shoot bad guys. We got ice cream after and they didn't have candles so he lit a lighter and had me blow it out. He sang for me too in the middle of the shop and the lady sang with him but Mr. Winchester doesn't like ladies. He bought me the shoes with the stars on them that the other kids wear and they're blue and I love them. He calls them Chuck Taylors, but everybody else calls them Convurse. I like his way better. He ate more ice cream than anybody ever has and then he looked real sick again when I told him it was the best day ever. I told him it was his own stupid fault for eating so much ice cream.

Somehow Sam was on his third beer. It took four months for her to start calling him Dean in her essays. At the one year mark she started using "dad". She still called his partner Jason.

Dad and Jason had a fight. I don't like Jason. He has a funny look on his face sometimes and he makes dad sad a lot but dad never says so. Ever. Cause he says "no chick-flick moments" a lot, and I like that. I can't cry and he doesn't make me or make fun of me for it. Dad's real good at stuff with cars, and he taught me to change the oil in them, but Jason was mad because I got dirty. Dad showed me a special soap that gets rid of the grease, and now I can change my own oil. Dad doesn't know I call him dad in these, so don't tell him. I'm going to wait until he really is my dad and then I'll tell him. Sometimes we watch old Westerns together and he makes lots of popcorn and drowns it in butter. He says I'm still not eating enough, and I try to eat more for him but it's hard sometimes. The kids at school make jokes a lot about him, but their dads suck. Mine is cool, and he drives a truck but he has a car that he's gonna fix some day and I'll help him. When it's done we're going to ride in it, and I want to go really far. He says one day we'll use it to see the Grand Canyon. I've seen it in pictures, but I want to see it for real.

Sam wiped at his eyes and looked over at the empty beer before flipping to the newest essay.

I think Jason is lying to dad about how often he works. If Jason goes away can I still stay? Dad won't talk to me about it, but I know you people are making it hard because he likes men. You're stupid for that. Dad's the best ever, and if you can't see that you're all blind. He sits up with me when I have nightmares, and he tells me stories. He didn't make me talk and he lets me go about stuff my way a lot. Dad's super smart and he's gonna teach me to take apart an engine one day when I'm bigger. He helps me with math homework and he never says I'm evil.

He put the essays back in the folder in a haphazard pile, stumbled his way away from the table, and ended up in the bathroom throwing up his dinner and all the beer left in his stomach. Sam didn't sleep well that night.

Sam started reading the essays slowly, two a night after he had finished every single one of his forms and papers. He skipped around in the chronology, so the stories in them didn't always make sense. It became a game. A Tarantino movie playing out slowly and developing a character that before had just been a rough looking mechanic who'd made him spaghetti and stood in front of a little girl like a pillar.

It's not dad's fault I fight at school. Terry said dad was a sinner because he likes men. I know what sinners are. I'm a sinner because I was born evil and mom asked for me from the devil. Dad isn't a sinner though. He only does nice things. He fixed a lady's car and she couldn't pay and she cried but dad lied and told her that the part came from an old car and he wasn't out any money if she didn't pay. She didn't cry after that. Dad says that the world is real hard and mean sometimes but we can do good things and make it better. He has burn scars like me but in a bigger area and it was because someone was mean like my father was. Dad says that we can't change that but we can change things now. I used to think he was a liar but I don't think that anymore even if he lied to that lady.

His workload was probably going to drive him nuts, but Sam kept at it because that was what he went to school for. He saw siblings that didn't want to be split up, parents that just couldn't handle the stress, and families that didn't need to be anywhere near each other. Each case needed attention, each one required a special kind of sympathy and care, and at night he would come home and open a beer before turning to a new essay. Some nights he let himself read two or three, and each one was as startling, colorful, and moving as the one before it.

Mr. Winchester bought me colorful socks today. A lot of them. When I asked him why he said it was cause he didn't know my favorite color but I don't have one. He says I gotta pick a color or else I won't be able to say what color I want when someone asks. He doesn't make sense but I kind of like him. Mr. Green says I should have white socks cause the color ones are strange and don't match my cloths right but I don't care about that. I want to keep the colorful ones cause Mr. Winchester bought them.

Maria called to see how he was doing and Sam told her he was fine. They chatted for a bit before she brought up the Winchester case.

"I was just wondering if that one was giving you trouble? It was a difficult case."

Sam glanced towards the table, the ever-present file folder, and then longingly at his fridge which held all the beer he could want on a Tuesday night. "It's fine. I did the first home visit and my next one is in a few days. I think he's a strong candidate."

There was a sharp intake of breath and then a sympathetic noise. "Dear, I know you're new at this but don't let yourself be blinded. Dean Winchester has a rather colorful past, and considering that and his current home life I'm not sure he should be left with a child as…delicate as Hannah. She needs stability."

His fingers found the spot between his eyes and rubbed harshly before he found the words he wanted. It wouldn't do to insult her, because she still had a lot of friends in the building despite her rapid departure. "I get that Maria. I just-"

"You do know his history right? It was in the file."

Actually he'd never gotten that far. The reports were so numerous and depressing Sam had stopped, and then the essays had stolen all his attention. He cleared his throat and glanced upwards at the ceiling of his apartment's kitchen. "Yes of course. I'm taking that into consideration."

The smug tone that came back down the line made him want to scream. "I'm glad. Even his…partner Mr. Green realizes that the girl is too much for them. He told me so multiple times."

Sam found a way to end the conversation shortly after, and he went to the file and flipped to the back until he found the insert Maria had put for Dean. It wasn't as sizable as Hannah's medical reports, but it was thick enough. He read the police report about the attack on Dean's family, the deaths of his mother and father and his hospitalization, and then the adoption by his father's friend Robert Singer. Dean had been a juvenile delinquent, and the majority of those records had been sealed, but there was a fair amount of talk from chatty old neighbors that Maria had included as evidence. Singer died in a car accident shortly after Dean's eighteenth birthday, and he'd been flying straight and narrow since then. Maria didn't give much print to that. There were no glossy photos, and everything was put together with bad copies and second-hand accounts. He went back to the essays. They were more trustworthy.

Dean sewed a hole in my pants today and he's not good at sewing. Mr. Green lectured him and then threw the pants out but I got them back from the trashcan. I won't wear them because Mr. Green will be angry but I'll keep them hidden. Dean put band-aids on my knee before he sewed the hole and I was real glad. He said that kids get hurt sometimes cause they're not carefull but I was being carefull. Dean told me it's ok to make mistakes and I didn't say that he was a liar this time but I know. Dean and Mr. Green had a fight and Dean slept on the couch cause he was angry and he had a nightmare. I heard him but Mr. Green didn't. I went to the couch and I woke him up cause nightmares only get wors as they go and he was real sorry he woke me but I wake him all the time and he says not to be sorry. I don't know how to tell him things will be good like he tells me so I hugged him real tight and I put my face against his scar cause that's what hurts him and he shook a lot like he was crying. I don't know if he was crying but if he was that's ok cause he can do that sometimes. I won't tell anybody but you cause its important to know that he can cry too and he's still ok.

The next home visit came up and Sam found himself on the back porch watching as Dean stood in the wind and flipped burgers on a grill. Hannah sat beside him with her mass of tight curls pulled back into a ponytail and a serious look on her face. She was explaining to Sam how to play checkers, and he purposefully made several mistakes just to hear her correct him. Every time she said "Dean says" he fought the smile that wanted to come out. Jason was at work again, and Sam used the time as an impromptu one-on-one since Dean's hearing was hampered by distance and wind.

"So Hannah, what's your favorite color?" He didn't look up but he felt her gaze rest on him and then flit away.

"Blue. What's yours?"

"I'm partial to green." He jumped one of her pieces and she muttered something and took another one of his in response. "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Her eyes narrowed as she considered the board. "A mechanic like Dean. I'm gonna specialize in classic cars. Why did you become a social worker?" She gave the longer words special care as she moved her piece.

That surprised him. He was used to the mirror technique, and deflection, but not this sort of honest interest. "I wanted to help people. Be a voice for people without voices."

Sam watched as her lips pursed and then she finally looked up and caught his eyes. "No one who does what you do is helpful." She stood and walked away from the board without another word, and when Sam looked over Dean's green eyes were peering at him questioningly. He didn't follow her though. Instead he joined Dean at the grill and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

Dean half-smiled as he flipped a burger into the container. "That can't be a regulation haircut."

"Well what can I say? I'm a rebel with a cause." Dean made a face even as he laughed.

"Yeah ok Sasquatch. Wanna tell me what had the kid leaving like that?"

"I told her I became a social worker to help people without voices." Sam watched as Dean narrowed his gaze at the last two burgers and then flipped them both in with the others before shutting off the grill. He didn't respond, but he didn't move either so Sam continued to fill the silence. "She said nobody in social work is helpful."

Dean winced sympathetically and then closed the grill. "Hannah's had a lot of bad experiences. Don't take it personally." Sam wasn't sure if he was more surprised that Dean was comforting him or that Dean thought he needed to be comforted.

They crossed the yard and entered the house to find Hannah sitting angrily at the table while Jason lectured her on proper silverware placement. He looked up at the two of them and smiled brightly. "Oh hey. Guess who got home early?"

Or late. Sam held his hand out and shook the other man's hand. "Glad you could join us Mr. Green."

"Oh please, call me Jason. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Sam was given seven new essays and no reports on any more disciplinary action. Hannah didn't talk again until dinner was over, and then she eyed Jason before speaking loudly and slowly. "I want to do dishes with Mr. Campbell. Alone."

Something odd flitted over Jason's face, and then he stood and nodded before leaving. Dean stayed though, eyeing her carefully before looking to Sam. "I'll be two rooms over kiddo. In the study. You call if you need me ok?"

Hannah simply nodded. Once they were both fully gone she stepped up to the sink and eyed the dishes before starting to wash them. Sam waited for her to start talking, and when she didn't he took the spot next to her and started loading the dishwasher. They stayed that way for several silent minutes before she cleared her throat.

"You think Dean is hot."

Sam dropped the plate and caught it inches from the floor. He looked up, adrenaline pumping, and watched the way she simply studied him.

"Well-uh-what?" Brilliant Campbell. Eloquent as always.

"If you were dating Dean would they let him adopt me? You're one of them so that'll make it ok right?"

He winced and put the plate away before reaching for her. It was a reaction, and he didn't think it through, but he was surprised when she didn't flinch away from him. She shook a bit but she didn't flinch.

"Hannah that's not the way it works. Your-Dean is in a relationship and I'm not-" What gay? Interested? He wasn't entirely sure what he wasn't, or was for that matter.

She frowned, and then her eyes moved to land on the doorway. Sam turned to see Dean watching them with intense interest. On the way out Dean invited him over for dinner. "Sometime when it ain't an official visit."

Sam accepted.

Are you reading these? Jason is cheating on my dad. You said you like to help people, so help him. Or else you're a liar and liars are the worst.

---

Dean leaned back in the porch chair and finished off the pie before turning to cock an eyebrow at Hannah. She was licking filling off her fingers and smiling to herself.

"What's got you looking like the cat who ate the canary?"

Hannah hummed once and then looked away. "Nothing. Can we start working on the Impala?"

His eyes strayed over to the car slowly. Right now the only things in it that didn't need work or replacement were the tires and the steering column. It had been his father's car, and it was the car Uncle Bobby was driving when he died. Dean had honestly been pretty sure he was never going to fix it. That he'd leave it there to rust out and die along with the memories, but Hannah loved it. Loved every nook and cranny, and wanted to ride in it so bad sometimes she broke character and almost begged. Which was a hard thing to deny. Jason on the other hand hated it. Told him that holding on to his past like that would only hurt him in the long run. Which was probably right, but despite his assurances that he wasn't going to fix it he'd never been able to give it up.

"Maybe in a month or two sweetheart. I got a lot of cars piled up in the shop right now." He watched her smile falter, fail, and then she stood and stretched slowly.

"I'm going to bed." She paused at the door and didn't turn around. "I like Mr. Campbell a lot."

The door closed behind her almost silently.

Dean sat on the porch for a long time considering that, and then Jason joined him and leaned back in the chair while sighing deeply. "Dean. We have to talk."

"What's up?" A year ago he would have added a term of affection. He wouldn't have dreaded that tone in Jason's voice. A year ago he wasn't even sure he knew what that tone sounded like. What had happened to them in the meantime? They didn't talk anymore. Shit they barely touched each other.

Jason took in a deep breath and then lowered his voice just in case. Fuck. "I know you're fond of Hannah, but we can't keep her Dean. She doesn't trust me. I'm not even sure if she really trusts you or if she just knows she can get her way with you. We were both warned that she could be manipulative Dean. Kids that go through…what she went through tend to do that." He held up a hand to stop Dean and then rushed on. "I'm not saying she's bad or anything like that just-hell Dean she's driving us apart. You always take her side, and I feel like I'm the enemy around here." There was the sound of a watery breath, and Dean peered through the dim light to see tear tracks shining on Jason's face.

Well that didn't help. He leaned forward and brushed them off before pulling Jason close. "Fuck babe. I'm sorry." Which was the best he could do because while he understood Jason's point, and he felt bad that Jason felt that way, he couldn't see a way to fix it. Not without saying something that would start a real fight. They'd had enough of those.

"D-" Dean winced but didn't let him see it, "I just want-can't we go back to the way we were before? When we worshipped each other and were together? Like really together?"

They fucked that night. Dean wasn't sure what to call it really, because somehow it was awkward and halfway through Jason made a noise Dean couldn't remember ever hearing before and he almost lost his erection. Jason avoided his left side like always, and it took a long time for Dean to reach orgasm. But his partner fell asleep smiling, and Dean eventually followed him into unconsciousness.

He woke to his phone ringing, and he peered at the table to realize he'd overslept his normal wake-up time by two hours. Hannah had to be starving. He slid out of bed and grabbed the phone so it wouldn't wake Jason. When he didn't recognize the number he let it go to voicemail and headed for the kitchen. He hadn't made french toast in a long time, and Hannah always enjoyed it. He was mid egg beating when the phone rang again, and he saw the same number. He picked it up and grunted into it while adding the little bit of milk necessary to finish the concoction. Jason appeared in the door as he waited for a reply.

"Uh- Mr. Winchester? Dean?" It was Sam's voice, and Dean was surprised that he had to fight off a smile.

"Yeah?" Jason shot him a questioning look and then reached for the coffee pot and started to pour himself a cup.

"I was calling to alleviate your fears." Sam sounded confused, which worked because he was confusing the hell out of Dean.

"What fears?" He reached with one hand for the french bread and the other for the knife even as he tilted his head to tuck the phone into the crook of his shoulder.

There was a long and tense silence, and then Sam's voice was a little tight. "About Hannah. Your fears about Hannah."

The knife clunked against the cutting board. Dean turned around and looked at the kitchen, empty except for Jason's half-questioning gaze, and then Dean headed out of the room and for the stairs. He took them two at a time and slammed into Hannah's room. It was empty.

"Fuck. Is she-what-" He couldn't finish, his heart pounding so fast in his chest he was certain it was going to blow. He pressed a hand against it and heard Jason clatter up behind him.

"She's here. I'm making her breakfast, and you can pick her up anytime." Sam's voice sounded tight, odd, and Dean didn't blame him. Runaway kids were a large part of his career. What was Hannah thinking?

"Yeah. I'll be there in a few-where do you live?" Sam gave him directions, and Dean hung up and went to change. Jason followed him.

"She ran away? To where? Who was that?" Jason looked more surprised than angry, and that would be interesting if Dean wasn't half-insane with worry.

"Sam." Jason raised an eyebrow and Dean elaborated as he pulled his shirt over his head. He didn't miss the way Jason's eyes danced away, just like they always did. No big surprise there. No one other than Hannah had ever stared at his torso for long. "The DSS guy. She figured out his address and took off last night. I'm going to get her."

Jason's lips pursed and he shook his head. "Dean. This is going to tank our case. They'll never let us adopt her if we can't even keep her at home. It just underlines my point baby. She's not-Jesus look at this. She's scared the hell out of you and she's ruining your reputation with them."

Dean held up a hand. He couldn't have this fight right now. He had a kid to retrieve. Jason huffed and stormed off.

When he finally reached Sam's apartment building he eyed it before climbing to the third floor and knocking a little more harshly than he'd planned on. Thirty miles. Hannah had traveled thirty miles last night and there was only a limited number of ways she could have done that. All of them were severely dangerous.

Sam answered the door, hair in his eyes and dressed in sweats and a t-shirt that was tight. Mouth-wateringly tight. Dean almost shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts, but the tense look on Sam's face indicated that any wrong move from this point on would result in a shouting match. Which was just great. He followed the pointed hand to find Hannah in the kitchen. She looked pale, and her fingers twisted anxiously in her curly hair while she bit her lower lip.

He took a deep breath. A second one. "Hannah. Go get in the car."

A big hand landed on Dean's shoulder, the left one, and he almost shrugged it off. "I think we should talk about this here. Hannah was very upset."

That was just it. That was the end of Dean's rope. "Hannah's upset? I woke up this morning to find an empty bedroom and I get a call from you to explain it. Jason's freaked, I'm freaked, and I almost had a goddamn heart attack. What the hell were you thinking?"

Hannah winced and looked away. "Dean I'm sorry. I just-"

"No. I don't want to hear sorry from you yet. We're gonna go home and you're gonna say sorry to me and then to Jason. Then you're gonna explain what the hell got into you that you thought-I mean-how did you even get here kid?"

Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "I hitchhiked."

Dean saw red, and the hand on his shoulder was the only thing stopping him from crossing the room and grabbing her. Shaking her in his desperation.

"Hitchhiked? Are you crazy Hannah? You know what kind of people are out there. What the hell were you thinking that-"

The hand dragged him backwards, and Dean was led down a narrow hallway and pushed into a small bedroom. The majority of the space was taken up by a huge bed, and he wondered briefly if that was even enough space for the giant social worker before two hazel eyes pinned him in place. Sam's lips were tight, nostrils flaring, and he glared in a way that could have killed Dean if he wasn't so angry himself.

"You're gonna yell at her? She shows up here at four in the morning shaking like a leaf and telling me that you're planning on getting rid of her and this is how you comfort her? With yelling? Not cool man."

"Get rid of her? I'm not fucking getting rid of her. Why the hell would she think that?" He was yelling now. Really yelling, and Sam responded by yelling back.

"Because you and your boyfriend were talking about it asshole. She heard you two!"

Of course. Of course she'd heard that because Hannah's bedroom was above the porch and she often slept with her windows open. All his anger drained out so quickly he was briefly dizzy, and Sam actually caught him.

"We weren't-I wouldn't-fuck."

Sam surprised him then. Dragged him into a tight hug, and Dean was pressed face first into the broad and muscular shoulder. He got a deep breath of Sam's smell. Musky and earthy and thick. He let himself be held for a while, and then he pushed away and nodded while rubbing his eyes briskly. He held up a hand to stop Sam from saying anything else and then headed into the kitchen to see Hannah sitting perfectly still, eyes dry but red. Her unique tearless crying.

He knelt in front of her, took her shoulders, and then kissed her temple. "Hanners. I'm not going to get rid of you. I couldn't if I wanted to kiddo. I love you too much."

She made a noise, and then her arms went around him and her face buried against the scar tissue under his ear. "Sorry. Sorry Dean. Sorry."

They ended up eating lunch at Sam's, and the big social worker mediated a conversation between the two of them. Dean sent Hannah ahead to the car while he stayed back to apologize to the other man.

"It was-Jason was just venting. I wish she hadn'tve heard it but I guess she did. Sorry 'bout all this." He felt oddly self-conscious suddenly, and that big hand descended on his shoulder again. Always the left one. Other than doctors and Hannah no one touched that shoulder.

"It happens. Just keep an eye on her ok? She was really upset."

Dean nodded once and then joined Hannah in the car. She looked about three inches tall, and he patted her leg before starting the car. They went to the park instead of home, and he pushed her on the swings until she was shrieking about touching the sky with her toes. On the way home she removed Jason's pop cd from the player and put the Rolling Stones in. Dean tried to control his smile.

Jason yelled, a good deal, and the argument ended with him storming out of the house and Dean standing in the doorway with his head down and his pulse racing. For some reason, mid-fight, Dean had thought about the weight of Sam's hand on his scarred shoulder.

A few days later Hannah was standing behind him with a tight-lipped frown. "Dean I don't think you're supposed to add the eggs that way."

He peered at the recipe, blurry and stained, and then back at the dish in front of him. "Kid I think egg adding is the least of my worries. This thing looks like garbage."

"What is it supposed to be again?" She poked it with one tiny finger and the frown deepened.

"A quiche. It's called a quiche." The doorbell rang and Hannah ran to get it. Came back with Sam in tow and her voice carrying through the old house.

"It's called a quiche, and we think it's wrong."

Sam came through the doorway dressed in a nice button-up shirt and slacks. His eyes immediately registered that Dean was in grease-stained jeans and a t-shirt, and then he saw the quiche. Any potential embarrassment was removed by the sight of the messy countertop and the aborted dish. Sam's dimples were pretty impressive.

An hour later Hannah was laughing as Sam wiped flour from her face. "And that's how you make dough. Although you're supposed to get the flour in the mixture." Dean watched the way her eyes sparkled up at the big man. How she tilted her messy face this way and that to be cleaned. The pot of water boiling behind him was filled with pierogies, and Dean watched as Sam began to chop the onion methodically while Hannah grabbed a chair next to him.

"We've never had these before. Are they good Mr. Campbell?"

Sam looked over his shoulder and smiled again. "Call me Sam. They're amazing. My mom and dad used to make them every Friday and we'd change the fillings all the time."

Dean watched them chatter back and forth, easy and relaxed, and he sipped his beer while he considered how domestic the whole thing looked. How different she was with the big social worker.

How good it was to see Sam smiling in his kitchen, shirt sleeves rolled up and flour streaks on his corded forearms. How he shouldn't be thinking that way.

---

Jason is cheating. Sam glanced at the essay again before turning his eyes to his supervisor. Gabriel's own eyes were fixed on a different essay.

"You getting a little too into this case Sammy?" His voice was light, easy, but there was hesitation Sam didn't fail to notice.

"I don't think I'm any more involved than is warranted. It's kind of an intricate issue." He put the sandwich down in front of his supervisor and then mixed up the chocolate milk Gabriel was so fond of. There was silence for several minutes and then Gabe laughed out loud. "Which one is it?"

Gabriel's voice was full of mischief as he read aloud. "I had a bad nightmare last night. Dad decided we needed to go to the zoo because I was so messed up when I woke up. The zoo was real big and dad spent four dollars on food so I could feed the animals. He said I need to be careful because the geese bite but I said they don't have teeth so how can they bite? Dad was right though cause one bit me and it scared me, so dad spread his arms out real big and made geese noises at it while chasing it away. It worked, but when dad turned around to come back the goose bit him in the butt and Dad was limping the rest of the day. Geese are not to be trusted."

Sam chewed his sandwich and tried not to smile so hard his face fell apart. Gabe's eyes dimmed a bit on the next one, and Sam raised a silent questioning eyebrow. "I told Dean what is wrong with me today because he still says he won't read my folder. Dean listened to the whole story, and then when I was done he asked me if I thought I was really evil. When I said yes Dean took a real deep breath and then he showed me his burns. He said no one touches them because they are scary, not even Mr. Green, but he likes them. He says they show that he met a bad person and survived. Dean says my cross shows the same thing, and that it means I'm a good person because I won and my father lost, and good people always win. I don't know if that's true, but I want it to be because Dean said so. I think I love Dean."

He rubbed at his eyes for a second and stole a glance at Gabriel. "She speaks very highly of him."

"Shit Sammy I'm half in love with the guy and I've never met him. I know you're some sort of asexual, but this can't be not affecting you." The amber eyes were bright, inquisitive, and Sam squirmed under their gaze.

"He's in a relationship. I'm her social worker." Sam shrugged once and tried to look disinterested. "It'd never work. They'd throw his application out in a second and I'd be fired. Conflict of interest Gabriel."

There was silence in the kitchen, and then Gabriel nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. A conflict of interest. Let's go to the bar tonight."

How Sam managed to actually be talked into the trip he didn't know, but he found himself sitting beside his supervisor and watching the man down girly drinks and look over the crowd. For kicks Gabriel had left out that this was a gay bar until Sam had already settled down and ordered his first beer. Now he was watching couples all around them as Gabriel sipped something that looked neon pink.

"How can you drink that shit?"

"Sugar content. It's all about the sugar. While you're grimacing over bitter beer I'm enjoying smooth liquor hidden under a gallon of sweetness." Gabriel's smile honed in on him. "Life needs to be sweeter Sammykins. Don't you know that?"

Sam's eyes roamed, and landed on a familiar pair of blue ones staring intently at another man. He swallowed thickly and his beer hit the bar too hard. Jason Green. Dean's partner, his boyfriend, half-draped over some guy and laughing hard. Gabriel's gaze followed his and stopped abruptly.

"Let me guess. That's the boyfriend."

He swallowed again and half-stood. "How'd you know?"

Gabriel's hand landed on his forearm in a punishing grip. "Because the kid is smart and she saw it first. They always do. Listen Sam just hold off for a second ok? You fight that guy and it's all over faster than you can blink."

Sam nodded, dropped a twenty on the bar and headed for the door. Gabriel came out fifteen minutes later with a smile and his phone held high like a war trophy. "I'm reassigning you! Someone with more clout is taking the Winchester case."

How Sam didn't guess what that meant he'd never know. What he did know was the next time he visited the salvage yard he found Dean taping boxes with a grim face and busted knuckles. He glanced at the boxes for a second and then looked around, but Hannah was nowhere in sight. "What's going on Dean?"

"I'm packing Jason's shit so he can take it with him. In the meantime I'm considering my options for the rest of my fucked-up plans. Put that in your paperwork, 'cause they're gonna love a battered little girl living alone in a salvage yard with a single fucking queer man. I'm sure that'll go over well."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek for a second and then took the tape from Dean's trembling hands and finished off the box. "How much more do you have to pack?"

Dean didn't look up, green eyes focused on the ground in front of him. "Some books in the living room. That's it though. I didn't go all Waiting to Exhale on him if that's what you're wondering."

"I was wondering what you'd planned for dinner, and how you could have spent so much time with someone so stupid. I was also wondering if Hannah's creative project went over well."

The eyes looked up, focused on him, and the strong jaw flexed once and then settled in place. "I'm making a ham. Hannah's in there worried she needs to baste it. She'd probably be glad for the company. I've been shit to deal with lately."

Sam fiddled for a second with the tape and then looked over the yard to the Impala, sitting separated from the other cars. Hannah had told him about it more than once. He wasn't sure what to say, so he settled for putting a hand on Dean's shoulder and then taking a deep breath. "They're reassigning your case to someone with more clout. Whoever it is they'll be here tonight. I didn't know if you'd want me to stay or-"

He was surprised when Dean pulled him into a hug, tight and hard, and then let him go. "Yeah. Stay Sam. Please."

When Gabriel showed up Sam was only half-surprised. Hannah was fluttering around, unsure and tense, and when Gabriel entered the house she froze in place and stared at him. Her fingers twined over each other for several seconds, and then her jaw set into a look reminiscent of Dean earlier that evening.

"You're short." It sounded half hopeful and half accusatory, and Gabriel took it in without losing the pleasant expression he'd entered with.

"Yeah. I'm short. Still taller than you though Shrimp."

He watched Hannah's brown eyes fly wide open, Dean stepping up behind her and then stopping when she started to laugh. "I'm supposed to be short 'cause I'm young. You're an adult so you should be tall. Don't you know anything?"

Gabriel shook his head and took a seat before eyeing the ham. "Nope. Got my degree in nothing in college. Never studied anything. Hey do I smell pie?"

Hannah nodded once and then looked away, shyness overtaking amusement. "Yeah I'm-it's my first one."

"Well I'm honored kid. Really. But you don't need to butter me up like that. Sam's already said so many good things about you I'm sure to hire you." Gabriel winked at her and she smiled again, strain barely evident.

Sam gorged himself on the ham, nerves overtaking all sense of when he should have stopped, and before he knew it they were eating pie and exclaiming as Hannah sunk deeper into her chair and a rosy flush infused her caramel cheeks. After dessert Gabriel gave them a serious look and nodded once. "Hannah you ok with me talking to you alone? Or do you want one of these big strapping men to stay?"

"You're fine." She looked up and straightened in her chair. "Dean's fixed what's wrong with me." The trembling in her hands belied that, but it was the wording that got Sam. He saw a shadow on Dean's face, but Gabriel's expression never changed.

"Well I hear the man's a fine mechanic. Give us about five or ten minutes ok guys? Shouldn't take long."

Dean stayed in the study, close enough to run if she panicked, but far enough they'd have privacy. Sam helped him pack up books. "Who is that guy?"

"Believe it or not that's my boss. He's legendary in the office."

There was a grim nod and then another book got tossed into the box before Dean started to tape it up. "I can see that. Sam why-"

Gabriel called from the kitchen and they went, found him standing near the door with a smile on his face and a handful of essays. "I'm headed out boys. Nice to meet you Dean-o. Pleasure seeing you in the future I'm sure." He winked once at Sam and then he was gone, and Hannah was washing dishes with a smile on her face. Sam studied her while Dean placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It go ok kiddo?"

She nodded, finished the last plate, and then stepped down from the stool. "He's weird, but funny. I don't mind him."

Sam let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. After Dean had tucked her in and read to her they ended up on the porch drinking in the dark, stars twinkling above them.

"So what I was gonna ask is why you got reassigned." Dean's voice was heavy in the darkness. Questioning and fearful all at once. Sam knew why.

"Nothing to do with your case. There were concerns I was getting too emotionally involved." He waited for it, and Dean didn't disappoint.

"Oh yeah. God forbid you guys care about the kids you check in on. That'd be a damn tragedy."

Sam let the silence build between them before he took another swig of beer and mustered up his courage. "With you. Too emotionally involved with you."

There was a harsh intake of breath, more silence, and then a warm callused hand landed on his in the dark and Sam soaked it in and said nothing. That seemed best. He slept on the couch that night, and in the morning he woke up to Hannah's big eyes staring at him and absorbing every inch of his face. He raised an eyebrow but stayed perfectly still as she looked at him.

"You helped Dean." She tilted her head and then smiled softly, sadly, and Sam wanted to touch her but he'd never initiate the contact. "You sent the message with the picture didn't you?"

He shook his head but her grin spread impossibly wide. "Ok. Whatever Sam. Thank you." Then she hugged him, and he heard the sound of Dean dropping something in the doorway behind them. Their eyes met, and something in Sam melted at the look on Dean's face.

Maybe this would be alright.

---

Jason had been gone three months, and Sam practically lived with them. Dean had to stifle laughter when he saw the big man trying to sleep on his short couch. His legs were completely over the arm, and his feet practically touched the floor. Dean had slept on that couch though, and he knew it wasn't comfortable. Still Sam kept coming back after work, tie half-undone and face smoothing out from the look of stress he carried after a long day. It took Dean two weeks to figure out that Sam had changes of clothes tucked in his car, and then he muttered something and cleared out the dresser in the guest room so Sam could just store extra shit there. They didn't talk about Sam's confession on the porch, but every now and then Sam's hand would brush Dean's lower back, or they'd lock eyes and not look away. Hannah moved between them seemingly oblivious, but Dean knew the girl too well to be fooled by that. Gabriel's monthly visits only added to the chaos, and Dean came in after a very long day under a Mercedes to find Hannah covered in cake batter and Gabriel laughing so hard he was bent in half and crying.

He stared at the disorder for a long time before Hannah looked his way. Her face was sour, but her eyes danced. "Gabriel is clumsy as an ox. I thought little people were graceful Dean."

Dean joined Gabriel in his laughter.

The next day he came home and found the house empty even though Sam's car was out front. He heard laughter eventually from the back and traveled there to find Hannah and Sam standing in front of the Impala, staring under the hood and laughing uncontrollably. He approached slowly and saw the spread of tools and the open book on the engine block. Hannah caught sight of him and her laughter died instantly.

"We were-Dean we just-"

He reached out and took the wrench from Sam, hefted it for a second, and then leaned in and tightened the pulley connected to the new fan belt they'd put in. He stared at it for a moment before looking over to the open book. "You guys got the For Dummies series right?"

Hannah tried to look offended but she was smiling too hard. It became their nightly ritual; work on the Impala after dinner and before the light faded. Sam turned out to be a quick study, and Hannah absorbed everything Dean said like they were life or death lessons. More often then not they'd come in dirty and exhausted, barely able to watch television together before Hannah would fall asleep and need to be carried to bed. Two months of this and Dean couldn't take it anymore.

The kid had been in bed for over an hour and Dean looked over to Sam as the big man filled out little blanks in some form. He put a hand on Sam's shoulder and took a deep breath. "You meant that right. About the emotional involvement?"

It was out of nowhere, and Sam blinked at him owlishly until his brain caught up with Dean's. He was on his feet in seconds, head tilted and lips pressed against Dean, and the taste of him was fucking exquisite. Beer and something else, and his lips were just as soft as Dean always imagined they'd be. When Sam's big fingers brushed the scarring under his ear he shuddered, and then gasped as Sam's mouth followed the path of his hand. It was fast, really fast, but not actually because they'd been building up to this since that first fucking day when Sam didn't make Hannah pray before the meal, didn't ask to see her alone, didn't try to touch her.

Sam stood for everything Dean had wanted in Jason and couldn't have. Someone who would support him, who would really look at him, and be his partner. Someone who could love Hannah the way he did, and be loved in return. They were halfway upstairs before Dean broke the kiss. "Too fast. Isn't this too fast?"

The bigger man pushed him into the bedroom and groaned. "No. Maybe. Is it?"

Dean looked at Sam's lust-blown eyes, the way his big hands twitched instead of reaching, and pulled his shirt over his own head. "No. No it's not."

Sam didn't look away, his eyes took in every inch of Dean's torso, followed the line of scarring from his hip up the line of his ribs and over the remains of his left nipple. The scarring stopped at that spot below the ear, and Sam made a noise low in his throat before he hit his knees and began to kiss and lick his way up the marks. Dean had touched the scars a thousand times, had let Hannah run her fingers over them, but nothing like this had ever happened. The reduced sensitivity was overwhelmed by the sight of Sam, big old fucking Sam, on his knees with his lips pressed against the old scars. When Sam got back to the spot under his ear he pushed backwards and fought with the buckle of his belt. Sam stripped while Dean shed what was left of his clothes.

They ended up together on the bed, Sam's tongue in his mouth and Dean's hands guiding Sam's hips. Pulling and tugging until they were lined up and he could grip both cocks and stroke. He had to lick his hand, re-adjust, and then go back to the work he'd started. He ate the moans from Sam's mouth, fingers moving faster as friction and heat sent him hurtling towards the edge. He was a little proud that Sam broke first, dropped Dean's name in a hitched voice before spurting between them. Dean didn't last much longer beyond that, and they stayed there for a while despite the rapidly cooling stickiness.

The sound of harsh breathing, his pulse beating rapidly in his throat, and the feel of Sam's twitching ab muscles all suggested to Dean that this wasn't going to be easy to give up.

When he woke up and wandered downstairs in just his sleep pants for the first time since he'd met Jason he saw Hannah sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal and a look of concentration. She was writing out her essay as she spooned cereal into her mouth. He didn't peek, but he started brewing coffee as he spoke over his shoulder.

"You ever gonna let me read one them things?" He yawned once and scratched at his stomach before pouring in the grounds. She made a snorting noise behind him.

"Never. Is Sam staying for good now?"

Dean paused, hand over the button, and then he hit it and listened to the gurgling. "Would you like that?"

"Dean, that's the first really stupid thing you've asked me in a long time." He met her eyes for a second, and then dropped a kiss on the top of her curls.

"Well then you ask him." He stared at the coffeemaker and hoped that Sam would say yes.

He did.

They were maybe a week away from having the car back in top shape, and Gabriel was watching them from a seated position as he shoveled M&Ms into his mouth. He made a noise, and Dean turned expecting to see him choking on his candy. The way he ate it Dean wasn't sure if the guy knew the difference between food and air. Instead he saw Gabriel standing as Jason crossed the yard and approached Dean carefully. Hannah dropped the mallet and moved in between them with a fierce expression.

"You stay away from Dean jerk! You're not welcome here!"

Jason shot her a look and then caught his eyes. "Can we talk please? Privately?"

Dean patted Hannah's shoulder softly and then nodded to Jason. Sam's eyes followed him but he didn't call out or argue. Dean heard Hannah say something angry to him. Heard Gabriel's amused tone in response.

"Dean listen. I'm sorry ok? Sorry about everything. It just-I got overwhelmed alright? Is there any chance I can make it up to you?"

He studied Jason's face for a long time, and when he was done he found what he was looking for. He remembered the taste of Sam the night before, the feel of Sam shaking under him as Dean licked his way up and down his thick shaft.

"Not really man. That's the one line I don't cross or forgive. Anything else?"

Jason's face went dark. "It's because of Hannah isn't it? She doesn't like me so you won't even consider the possibility that this wasn't all my fault."

"Not all your-what the fuck? Are you seriously laying this shit on me Jason? You cheated. We're done. It has nothing to do with Hannah." Which wasn't true, but who cared?

"Fine. I cheated. But why Dean? Because every night was a struggle to get even a little bit of your attention. She soaks it all up and you've got nothing left for anybody else. It's exhausting. No one could put up with that sort of isolation."

Dean looked back over his shoulder reflexively, and Jason caught it. The harsh exhale drew his attention back. "The social worker? You're fucking the social worker? Oh this is rich. You think that'll go over well with DSS when someone reports you?" He didn't miss the implication.

"Jason, you have roughly six seconds to get in your car and get the hell off my land. I see you again I'll call the cops. After I beat the shit out of you." He turned on one heel, didn't bother looking back because really why? It was over.

That night Sam came out of the shower and studied him for a long moment before crossing the floor. "If we get the Impala done in the next two weeks we'll be able to use it over summer break. I have a lot of vacation stored up."

"What exactly made you think this was a good idea?" Dean wanted to shut up. To take Sam's hips and lick his way down to Heaven. He wanted to slick up his fingers and slide into Sam for the first time, to know he was the only man to ever go there and that maybe he'd be the last. Instead his stupid mouth kept moving. "What could possibly have made you want this with me?"

Sam's eyes didn't soften, didn't flow with pity or sympathy, and Dean was grateful. "Essays."

That dulled the edge of his arousal. "What?"

"Hannah's essays. The way she talked about you. The things you did for her. Juxtaposed against the pictures and the police report, against her whole dark history, there were these essays. All she wrote about was you, and the man she described was-" Sam stopped and dropped the towel. Climbed into bed and placed his lips against Dean's ear. "We had to study case history in college. Read these old files and watch interviews with these kids. You lose a lot of faith in humanity that way. I read maybe two sample cases worse than hers. You know what happened to both of those kids?"

It was hard to focus with Sam's hands on him, that big body covering his, but Dean tried. "No. What?"

"They killed themselves. They didn't have a you. I got to know you through those essays and that's all I wanted. Your strength." Sam licked the scarring and Dean shuddered underneath him. "Your compassion." Hands undid his belt and pulled, and Dean lifted his hips to facilitate the stripping. "Your kindness." Sam was reaching past him, fumbling in the nightstand that had become his, and he pulled out a bottle of lube and pressed it into Dean's suddenly shaking hands. "You. All I saw was you."

He had Sam underneath him seconds later, long legs bent upwards and feet flat on the bed as he slid the first finger in and bit Sam's thigh to distract him. He took his time, used his mouth to reduce Sam to a mumbling, incoherent mess, and all the while he kept adding fingers and moving them until he had three in and had found Sam's prostate with only a little difficulty.

"Dean please-gonna-shit come on-"

And he granted Sam's request. Pushed himself up with a pop and then led Sam onto his knees, because the first time it was better that way, and they could look at each other the next time and the time after. Because he didn't want Sam to see his face right now. He wiped the tears away and lined up, pushed in just enough, and then held still.

Getting in was hard work, they both ended sweaty and gasping, and Sam lost his erection in the process. Dean coaxed it back with slick fingers, mouth licking and biting along Sam's smooth back as he murmured into his skin. "Come on baby. I got you. Come on."

It didn't take much to have Sam writhing again, gasping, and then he was moving and Dean was moving too. Pushing his way to orgasm as he talked. "You too Sam. You're-oh fuck- you're just as good. So fucking strong and sweet-shit-shit-"

It was slipping out of his control, and then he was thrusting and moaning, incapable of speech, and Sam was under him so tight and fucking hot it felt like the fire again. He held onto Sam's hips, fingers no doubt bruising, and when he was close he grasped Sam harder and sped up the pace. Matched it to his thrusts and listened as Sam fell apart under him. The world exploded, and they collapsed there with Dean still in Sam and half over him. Panting like they'd just hit the finish line of a race.

And maybe they had.

---

The blue-eyed lawyer stared at him uncomprehendingly. "I don't get the reference."

Dean's eyes met his, gaze shocked and unbelieving. "Really? Batman. Everybody knows Batman. Who is this guy?"

Gabriel stuffed a mouthful of chocolate bar in and spoke through it. "My brother. Castiel. Best lawyer I know. Has these papers for you." He wiped chocolate from his mouth and smiled softly. "Think you'll like them."

Sam leaned over Castiel's shoulder and glanced at the paperwork, saw the header, and took a deep breath. "Gabe are you serious?"

"Deadly. Where's the kid?" Sam watched Castiel hand Dean the paperwork. Watched his partner read it once, twice, and then saw the way his hands started to shake.

"She's in her room doing homework. Should I get her?" Sam couldn't help the way his voice cracked, the harsh and sharp notes. Dean's face was simultaneously awed and broken.

"Yeah. Get her. Hurry." Gabriel watched Dean's expression carefully. Sam took the stairs two at a time and landed at the top in seconds. He opened her door without knocking, saw her surprise, and picked her up. She was squealing in surprise and joy right up until Sam deposited her in the kitchen and she saw the gathering, the new man, and grabbed his thigh with one hand.

Dean gestured to her, and Hannah edged around Castiel and let him pull her one-armed into his lap. Sam realized he hadn't spoke since they gave him the papers. Dean buried his face in her hair and held the paperwork in front of her, and then Hannah's face went from tense, to confused, to overjoyed. "Really? You and Sam?"

Sam jerked at that, but when Dean looked up there was no surprise there. His face said Of course Sam, why not Sam. He rubbed at suddenly wet eyes as Dean's voice finally rumbled out, rougher and lower than even Castiel's. "Yeah Hanners. Me and Sam." She twisted in his grip, papers clutched in one hand and the other holding the back of his neck as she said something in his ear. Dean closed both eyes, a tear trailing its way down one cheek. "Yeah. That's who I am."

They made a trip to the butcher, another to the grocery store, and had steaks and banana splits that night. Gabriel insisted that the dessert worked as a side dish, and Sam was too happy to argue. Hannah's face, Dean's responses, all of it too good to be true. Sure it's only the first real step of the process, but who gives a fuck? A couple of court hearings with Gabriel backing them and they'll be done. He knows his boss's reputation, and if Gabriel says it the local judges will fall over themselves to place another lost kid into a good home instead of on the public dime.

Somehow he found himself sitting next to Hannah after Gabriel had opened the liquor and he and Dean were trying to explain to Castiel how to drink properly. The lawyer's trench coat looked more rumpled than before as he gritted out responses while wincing down whiskey.

"Sam?" He looked down to see the way her eyes glinted in the light. One hand moved of its own accord and pushed a bunch of hair back behind her ear. She grinned at that.

"Yeah Hannah? What's up?" He sounded like he was going to cry again, and it wasn't totally off the table. He'd been tearing up a lot tonight.

"We're a family Sam. Right? We're a family now?" She sounded so hopeful and scared that he pulled her into him and felt her burrow her face against his chest.

"Yeah. We're a family now." He let the tears come, and luminous green eyes caught his and smiled once, broadly.

They were two days away from having the Impala done when Gabriel called him. He answered the phone with one hand while he finished smoothing the tape over the antenna. "Yeah Gabe? What's up?"

Hannah was watching Dean explain the machine that would paint the car. Her voice sounded aggrieved. "Yes dad I know. The paint is toxic."

"Sam. They-shit kid. That motherfucker Dean used to date found family for her. Her dad's sister. I have to-"

He couldn't finish, and Sam knew why. Which was ok because Sam couldn't respond. All the air had gone out of the room. He caught Dean's gaze, and whatever his partner saw on his face he was crossing the space rapidly and grabbing Sam's arm.

"Sammy? What's wrong?"

"We're gonna be there in just a little bit Sam. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He closed the phone on Gabriel's apologies and let his head spin through a thousand possibilities as Dean continued asking what was wrong. They could pack Hannah up in the truck and run. Just keep moving. They could fight it, but the chances of winning against biological family were pretty slim. Fucking Maria. How could she miss a goddamn family member? Fucking Jason and his fucking prissy twink bullshit.

He finally found his voice, and he spoke while watching Dean's hands. The hands he loved so much. The ones gripping his arms to hold him up.

"Dean. Jason found her aunt. Gabriel is coming with them in a few minutes."

All the color left Dean's face, his eyes two small infernos burning above pale cheekbones. It was Sam holding him up now, and behind them Hannah wandered away from the car and looked up. "Dad? Sam? What's wrong?"

Dean's mouth worked soundlessly, lost and small looking suddenly, and Hannah's face responded. She shook her head once and then stepped back. "No. Are they-did they say we can't-dad?"

Sam let go when Dean ripped away from him. Watched as Dean snapped her up in his arms and held on so tight Sam was surprised she could still breath. He was muttering into her hair, and Sam couldn't hear what he was saying, but he watched her turn gray and begin to shake.

He didn't like the aunt the minute he saw her. Her husband stood beside her, burly and short, but she was tall and severe. She looked Hannah over like a general inspecting a soldier and then met Sam's eyes. She didn't speak to Dean. That was good though because Dean had fallen perfectly silent. He leaned against a wall with his hands cupping his elbows like he could hold himself together if he tried hard enough.

"My brother was unwell. He disappeared several years ago after he met a rather unsavory woman, and I can't tell you how hard it's been to find out what happened to him. I forgive the group of you for not looking harder to find me."

Gabriel stood behind her with his features hardened to stone. "Mrs. Montrose you should know that Hannah has lived with Mr. Winchester for over two years. This is considered a good placement. We were hoping you would consider visitation instead of custody."

"Yes you mentioned that. But my niece needs to be raised in a godly home and-" Hannah burst forward even as Dean's body jerked once.

"You shut up! I don't want to go to a godly home! I want to be with dad!" She turned and looked at Dean. "Right dad? We're gonna be a family right?"

Dean's eyes moved over her face and then hit the floor. "Hannah we'll fight this in the courts ok? Until then you have to go with her." He sounded like he had a throat full of glass, and Sam fought the urge to go to him. Fought the urge to grab her up and run with her.

"No. Dad no. I don't want to go. Please."

Her aunt made a face and then reached down to take her arm. "We'll see you in court then Mr. Winchester. Come along Hannah."

Hannah fought, struggled, and then pulled free and ran to Dean. Her arms wrapped around his legs. "Daddy-please don't let them take me! Please!"

Sam watched Dean's jaw work, watched the tears held barely at bay as he knelt down and whispered in her ear. Whatever he said she went limp, pliant, and this time when the aunt grabbed her she followed with her head down. They walked outside together, and right before they put Hannah in the backseat she turned. Sam bit his lip. Hannah was crying. Really crying. He felt Dean shaking beside him.

"You're a liar Dean Winchester." She rubbed angrily at her wet eyes and then turned back to the car. "Good people lose."

Her aunt closed the car door behind her and then looked their way. "You made the right decision Mr. Winchester. She belongs with her family."

Sam watched the car start up, watched it pull away, and then Dean was breaking off and running full tilt around the house. Sam and Gabriel followed him, watched as he entered the barn and then picked up the closest tool. No words were spoken. The two social workers simply watched as Dean screamed wordlessly and smashed every window in the Impala before re-denting the doors and throwing the tire iron across the space. He collapsed on the ground and Sam went to him then. Put both arms around him and held him.

"We'll get her back Dean. We'll get her back." He caught Gabriel's eyes and saw the determination there, all traces of mischief long gone as his boss nodded to affirm that he'd work to make sure it happened.

He tried to get Dean to eat something for dinner, and when that failed he resorted to simply sitting beside the shorter man and waiting for the breakdown. It didn't come. Instead Dean spoke with his head down and his eyes closed. "You should go Sam."

"Go where?" He knew where this was going. Knew what it meant.

"Away. I want to be alone." He covered his face with one hand and rasped out, "I deserve to be alone."

Sam considered it for a long time and then put a hand hesitantly on Dean's elbow. "Yeah that's not happening. I'm not going anywhere."

The drinking started the next day, and Sam did his best to hold the rest of Dean's life together in the meantime. Gabriel gave him a week's worth of leave, and Sam used it well. He called Dean's only employee and asked if the guy had any friends who needed a temporary job. He said he could find somebody. The two of them ran the shop, and Sam was immensely grateful that the guy understood and helped out. He spent hours on the phone with Castiel arguing case law and battle strategies. Between running all the particulars of Dean's life he prodded, shouted, and eventually force fed Dean in his periods of consciousness. They fought, constantly, about everything Dean could pick a fight about. Whether or not he really needed food, whether it mattered if he trashed his liver permanently, and most importantly the chances of getting Hannah back.

It had been three weeks of Dean's bender, and Sam was at his limit. He came back from his reduced hours with the department to find Dean blind drunk and in the yard.

"Dean. You have to stop this. You have to get sober, because our first court date is in a week."

Green eyes narrowed at him, and then Dean waved the mostly empty bottle. "Court date? Fuck Sam r'lly?" His slurring wasn't too hard to follow at this point. "So's we can see how quick a couple faggots lose custody?"

Sam took a deep breath, another one, and then knocked the liquor bottle out of Dean's hand. He reached around, grabbed the smaller man's waist, and then lifted him up. Dean was heavy, solid muscle, but Sam wasn't a lightweight. It helped that Dean was too drunk to struggle efficiently, and Sam carried him through the door and upstairs. He turned the shower on cold and then dropped Dean fully-clothed into the water. There was spluttering and a large number of invectives, but Sam simply stood impassively over him and made sure Dean stayed in the water until he was shaking with the cold and no longer arguing. Until he looked a little sober. Then Sam knelt beside the tub and took the familiar sharp jaw into his hand. Dean had lost weight. Too much booze and too little in the way of food.

"Gabriel has been writing report after report to help us. Castiel is working an extra fifteen hours a week to prove that there's precedent for this and that she belongs with us. Your mechanic Gary and his friend Leon have been carrying the shop along successfully. I've been digging up any dirt I possibly can on this aunt of hers. You're not alone in this Dean. Stop being a selfish prick and focus on getting our daughter back." It wasn't supposed to sound that harsh, but once it was out Sam realized he was crying and he couldn't stop it.

Dean stared at him silently for a long time. Stared and then reached and Sam was in the cold water with him and feeling Dean's stubble rubbing against his forehead. "Sorry. Sorry Sammy. Sorry." He sounded so broken and small that Sam couldn't hold on to even the thin thread of anger he had before.

They fell into bed together for the first time since Hannah left. Fingers moving slowly, exploring, and then Sam was underneath Dean and he felt that wet, hot mouth descending along his skin until it reached his cock and enveloped it. He cried out, jerked up, and it didn't take long for him to be on the edge of spilling into Dean's mouth. Dean pulled back just in time, slipping fingers out of Sam and moving up until he slid his way in and held on. Dean didn't move though, face pressed against Sam's neck and leaking tears as he gasped for breath. Sam held him, held so tight he was afraid Dean would snap in his arms but he couldn't let go. They found each other's lips, and Dean started to move even as he poured his grief out into Sam's mouth. They rocked together, desperately clinging, and when it was over they stayed like that. Held on until both fell asleep.

Gabriel didn't call with the bad news this time. He showed up and walked into their kitchen without knocking. It had been six days since Dean's breakdown, and he was eating and sober when the other shoe dropped. "Get in the car." Gabe's face was dark, closed off, and so startling that Sam didn't even ask questions. Dean stumbled up behind him and they made it out to Gabriel's Mustang without any hesitation. They were an hour outside of town before Gabriel broke the silence, and Sam noticed that his boss was exceeding the speed limit by a fucking lot.

"Schizophrenia, it turns out, is twenty percent more likely to appear in siblings with one sick parent. Hannah's biological father was schizophrenic. Apparently so was her aunt, but she was on medication. At least she was until shortly before Hannah showed up. Her husband got back from a business trip and found the two of them. Hannah's in the hospital."

Dean's hand grabbed his and squeezed so hard Sam heard the bones creak. "What-fuck-fuck-Gabriel?" Dean's voice was small, lost, and Sam held on and waited for the rest of it.

"She's dehydrated, and they said it's obvious she hasn't been eating much. There are bruises, but the worst physical damage is a cut. I didn't get the whole story yet but the uncle found the aunt cutting her hair and the scissors slipped."

There was heavy silence, and then Dean leaned forward and grasped Gabriel's shoulder. "Speed up."

They didn't talk again the rest of the way. How they didn't get popped by a policeman Sam couldn't figure out, but the car sped along until it pulled up into the emergency lane and then Dean was practically leaping the front seat, banging his head on the car's roof as he climbed out and ran. Sam disentangled himself and followed, watched as Dean sprinted down the hallways towards the Pediatrics wing. He grabbed a nurse and shouted Hannah's name, and the pale woman pointed and stammered out a room number before Dean let her go and dashed the rest of the way. He slid through the door and Sam followed close on his heels.

She looked tiny in the hospital bed, her usually caramel colored skin a pale and ashy gray. All of her kinky curly hair was gone, and there was a huge glaringly white bandage taped to her bald skull. They had her on an IV drip, and the bruises on her shoulder were highlighted by the slipping hospital gown. Hannah's eyes stared blankly at nothing as Dean crashed into the side of the bed and gathered her up in his arms as gently as he could. Sam went to the other side and put one hand on Dean's shoulder as he shook and sobbed into her shoulder.

"Hanners. Hanners I'm sorry kiddo. I'm sorry."

If she heard him she didn't respond.

---

They kept Dean appraised of the court proceedings as he stayed home and worked with Hannah. She was pliant and silent like a doll. She'd eat whatever was put in front of her and then sit silently and stare at nothing. The doctors called it acute stress disorder. Sam explained that was the medical term for psychological shock, and Dean let it go. He talked to her constantly. Talked so much he had almost no voice left and then kept pushing on.

The court granted an emergency order to put her in Dean and Sam's care. They were moving the full adoption along at light speed. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful, but he had more important things on his mind. Gary continued to basically run the shop, and Sam took more time off in an effort to be there as much as he could. They made her favorite food. Watched her favorite movies. Hannah sat between them at all times without moving or speaking. At night Dean would sit beside her bed until she was asleep, and some nights he would fall asleep there half on the floor and wake up to Sam gently shaking his shoulder. He'd let himself be led to bed and then fall asleep wrapped in Sam's arms and sure that the next morning would bring back the bright and sassy little girl he'd fallen in love with. It never seemed to work that way though.

When the paperwork came back that she was officially theirs Dean simply nodded once and then turned back to coaxing her into finishing the stew in front of her. Gabriel didn't seem hurt by his disinterest. The aunt ended up being remanded to a mental health facility, and Dean managed not to destroy everything in the nearby radius when he heard that. Instead he finished tying Hannah's shoes and then led her down to the couch so he could put on cartoons. She stared blindly at the wall beside the TV.

He stopped sleeping for a while. Spent his nights after she fell asleep working on the Impala, fixing the dents he'd made and replacing the windows. Gary showed up one night long after Sam had gone to bed and helped Dean finish covering all the chrome and glass before they painted the car together. Gary had always liked Hannah even if she'd never been really comfortable around him. Afterwards they stood outside the barn as Gary sipped a beer and Dean kneaded the back of his neck.

"Hey boss, listen, about the shop-"

"Yeah man I'm sorry. I know you're doing all this shit on your own and-"

Gary actually looked a little angry. "It ain't that dude. I wanted to say you can relax ok? Me and Leon we got this, and you got a lot on your plate. Maybe you should take the kid out once the paint dries. Didn't you promise her a trip?"

Yeah. Yeah he had.

It took a few days, but once the planning was done he and Sam packed everything into the car and then led Hannah to it. She let herself be strapped into the car-seat in the back and then Dean started the Impala up and forced a grin as he peered over his shoulder at her blank face. "Hey Hanners. Hear that purr? That's a real machine starting up and saying she's eager to get on the open road."

He thought maybe her eyes flickered a bit, maybe there was a second of focus, but it could have been his imagination.

They stayed in a series of run-down motels and ate at greasy spoons as they crossed the distance to their destination. He waited in the long line at the gates, and then followed the confusing road sings until he found a visitor parking lot that had an empty space. Sam walked on one side of her and Dean on the other, holding onto her limp hands as they led her along the walk-ways and through the crowds of tourists. It was more rapid than he thought it would be. One second it was all paved pathways and bushes, and the next they were standing at the edge of an abyss so large it was dizzying. The scene in front of them was certainly majestic, but the space was so wide that it had the appearance of a postcard or a well-done painting. Sam hoisted her up and held her carefully. He leaned in and spoke near her ear.

"See that Hannah? It's the Southern Ridge of the Grand Canyon. We made it kid." Sam's voice was…Dean couldn't handle it. Really he just couldn't. Sam had been too good, too damn supportive, and while sometimes Dean wanted to scream it seemed like Sam always had his shit together. That no matter what happened the big social worker would just keep standing there holding them both up. It took him a second to realize that while he'd been waxing feminine Sam had started to cry.

"Sam?"

His partner nodded once, and Dean turned his eyes to see that Hannah was looking, really looking at the scene in front of her. Her brown eyes moved over the canyon slowly, mouth working silently as she examined the scene in front of her. When she finally got words out they were small, whispery and frail. "Looks fake."

Dean bit back a sob and grabbed her, pulled her into him and felt her face burrow against the scar tissue under his ear. "Yeah kiddo. Yeah it sure does."

They spent the day going on hikes that Hannah had to be mostly carried on. She didn't start smiling, it wasn't some miracle cure, but she looked around and every now and then she'd speak softly. That was enough.

The nightmares started on the way back, but Dean and Sam were ready. They handled it together, and most nights they fell asleep with her between them holding both their hands with her little ones. When they got back Gabriel had arranged a party, and Hannah looked around at the mess of streamers and the pointed hat Gabriel had possibly glued to Castiel's head. The lawyer's dour face watched her and then he nodded once. "I am told this is not as ridiculous as I think it is."

Hannah's hand covered her mouth, and Dean leaned down to soak in the sound of her giggling. He didn't cry, but fuck he wanted to. They ate cake and he bitched about how Gabriel had managed to fill the house with confetti. When he found the four pounds of shredded paper hidden under his sheets that night he groaned, but Sam laughed. The dimples made it worthwhile.

It took months for Hannah to be herself again, and more time for her to admit the lengths her aunt went to. Still she got there, and when she was back she came back with a vengeance. Somewhere Gabriel found a picture of her with her mother, skin darker but just as smooth and hair the same mass of curls that were slowly growing back on Hannah's little head. She cried when she saw it, but she hugged Gabriel so tight the man had to fight to breathe. When she let go Dean saw the glint in his eyes, but didn't comment.

Two weeks before Christmas Dean was decorating the tree with Hannah when Sam came home. He'd been roped into going to a bar with Gabriel, and he walked into the door and clunked his way through the house shedding layers as he went. Dean studied Sam as he warmed his hands in front of the fire, took in the bruise on his jaw and the blood on his knuckles. Hannah's eyes were very wide, and when Sam finally turned and smiled at them his face showed no signs of stress or anger.

"I ran into Jason at the bar. We had words. Turns out Gabriel's really good with cops. Especially lady ones."

There was silence for a while, and then Hannah crossed the room and held out a package of tinsel. "Dad and I were decorating, but you should too. Then we'll figure out what I call you so we don't all get confused."

Sam cried. Dean didn't. Didn't need too. He watched his lover and his daughter throw tinsel wildly and simply soaked it in. He'd take Sam upstairs tonight and teach him how to open him up. Take him as deep and hard as he could and ride the bigger man until he was exhausted and limp. But all of that could wait. For now he just watched his family and let it wash over him.

---

Gabriel looked at the essay as the woman purred from the doorway. "Gabe come on baby. Come to bed."

"Just a second sweetcheeks. Got this one last thing to read." She slunk off and he pulled the paper up and started it.

Dad says my hair is normal again. We're gonna go on a trip soon and I'm excited because dad and pops, that's what I call Sam sometimes cause dad says it's a cool name but Sam gets embarrassed, are gonna show me mountains. We're gonna camp in them and sleep in a tent and stare at the stars. Sam knows what each one is called and he's gonna teach me the names and stories. Dad and Sam kiss a lot and sometimes they forget to stop if I'm nearby but that's ok because I like to see them kissing. They're in love like in the movies and that's special and I want them to keep it up. Sometimes dad makes fun of Sam and then Sam reminds dad he's taller and that dad loves him. Dad blushes sometimes and it looks good with his freckles. He says he doesn't blush. That's-/I

"Gaaaabriel, do I need to bring the handcuffs?"

He glanced up from the essay once, considered, and then shook his head. "Yes you do Officer. I'm in need of a good booking."

-not true. My crazy father told me there were angels but they'd never help me cause I'm evil. He was a liar because you and your brother have angel names and I think you're angels. I think Dad and Sam might be angels too. We're a family because of you and Castiel. So thank you. Also can you bring sprinkles Friday? We're all out.

He felt the cold steel of the handcuffs and dropped Hannah's writing on the table. He should get his employees in fights more often.