Disclaimer; I do not own Supernatural, that belongs to Kripke and Co. Title is taken from the song "time after time", which again i do not own. i don't own the songs mentioned in this either. The only things i do own are Naomi and Little Sammy =D

Warnings: Schmoop, arguing, angst. Mentions of few season 5 eppys and unbearably cute kid =D (yes, Daddy!Dean in this, paired with Naomi my OC)

A/N: This is a stand-alone story, it is part of my leather and Lace verse, but as i said, it can be read on its on without any prior knowledge. I wish to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who has been sending me lovely messages and encouraging me to get back into writing; i know its been over a year, but it wont be that long again, i promise!

A massive thanks to Camlann who is my wonderful beta, she's read this over twice now and made it awesome, so any mistakes possibly remaining are my own :)

Enjoy and PLEASE review 3

K

xox

P.S This at 14,120 words is the single longest piece of writting i have ever wrote in one go. Its Camlann's fault, so blame her for this epic one-shot of awesome XD


Flashbacks to Warm Nights Almost Left Behind.

"There's nothing more to talk about!" Naomi stabbed blindly at the "off" button on the phone, not even sure she hit it, and too angry to check, as she slammed it down, the plastic hitting the granite counter top with a loud crash before skidding backwards to crash violently against the tile backsplash. It finally came to a stop near the edge of the counter, hanging there perilously as Naomi stared blindly at it, waiting to see if it would fall. She took a deep breath as she gripped the counter tightly, knuckles going white in an effort to keep the pain and the hurt in check. How could he? How could that bastard be so damn selfish? As much as she wanted to yell, she fumed silently instead, because no matter what problems she and Dean were having, Sammy shouldn't have to witness it.

Just because he was more or less left to raise himself and deal with all of the emotional instability that goes along with it, doesn't mean I'm going to stand by and allow my son to be raised that way. Hell. No.

Naomi's head hung low between her shoulders; a familiar pose that seemed to have filtered its way from Dean's repertoire into her own. Her wedding ring cut into her finger as she tightened her grip on the edge of the counter, palms sweaty from fighting to stay in control. Dean's words, his voice so full of despair and almost anger echoing in her skull. Her own words, her own tone, rang in her ears, words that had emerged at first in relief and comfort at finally hearing from him had quickly turned into hurt and downright anger at his suggestion of going on another "quick hunt" before he came home. Both of their voices merged into one white-hot noise-no giving or taking, no room for compromise or agreement-as she replayed the argument in her head. On a loop. Over and over.

Why can't he just come home? What is it that makes things so rough that he feels he has to stay away all the time? I need him here. Sammy needs him! He's so goddamned set on getting Sam back. The same Sam that stuck a Bowie into him, the same Sam that obviously intended to fucking kill him. And unlike Sam,I've stood by him through everything, given him everything that I am, sacrificed things for him. Why is that not enough? What the hell does he want from me? What do I have to do to make myself a better person in his eyes, a more worthy cause for his attention? Because right now, right now, I don't appear to be very high on his list of priorities.

Her rage became so constant, so consuming she didn't hear the little footsteps approaching with gaining speed only to slow and approach more cautiously. She didn't notice the tears mist her eyes. She didn't feel herself shake. The sound was so loud in her head that she was only pulled out of her thoughts when Sammy wrapped his arms around her legs. Naomi looked down then, giving her son a soft smile before she crouched onto the floor beside her son, the breath almost knocked out of her as Sammy grabbed her close to him, hugging her as fierce as a three year old could.

"It's okay, Momma, Daddy still wuvs you. I wuv you, too." Sammy voice was so quiet but full of determination, the toddler trying his hardest to reassure his mother. "I won't never weave you." Sammy pulled back then, looking up into Naomi's ocean blue gaze, his green orbs sparkling with the promise of hope well beyond his years.

"You are my little angel," Naomi told him, cupping his jaw gently, her voice catching in her throat as she fought to keep the tears in her eyes. "How about some cookies?" Naomi kissed Sammy on the forehead as she scooped him up into her arms, tickling him and relishing in the soft laugh he let out. Naomi allowed herself to get caught in that moment and to savor it-just because Dean wasn't here, didn't mean they weren't a family.

If he wants to turn himself into his absentee father, then so be it, but I'm not going to miss moments like these for the whole world.

The loud whistle of the autumn wind blew through the kitchen door as Naomi settled Sammy on the counter, "You didn't think to shut the door, did you?" Naomi tapped Sammy lightly on the nose as she walked over to the open door, taking a second to inhale the smell of outside, of dried earth that always reminded her of Dean. With a deep breath, Naomi closed the door with a sharp click, a sharp click that masked the beep of the phone.

Neither Naomi nor Sammy heard that beep that signaled the end of the phone call, a call that in her rage she hadn't ended when she had meant to end it. She had left the line open and Dean had heard everything.


Dean closed his cell, having heard enough. Memories flooded his mind, the kind he hated reliving but at the same time treasured. His cell slipped from his hand as he leaned on his knees, the plastic falling from his hand and onto the threadbare carpet, right next to the spot his broken gaze was currently fixed on. He had hated it when Sam and their Dad fought, hated having to be the one to always pick up the pieces, to make the apologies for all of the hurtful words said. Growing up, he had vowed that if he lived long enough to have kids-assuming anyone actually wanted to have kids with him-that no child of his would ever experience what he had growing up. He had failed.

Just like I fail at everything else I fucking try.

Dean dragged his fingers through his hair making it stick up at weird angles as he let out a loud frustrated growl. The hunt had gone more or less without a hitch, leaving him with no more than the usual cuts and bruises, and he'd been packing up to head home when he'd gotten a call from a hunter who was an old friend of his dad's with another hunt for him and news of Sam's whereabouts.

And, fuck, what I wouldn't give to find that kid.

Three years was a long time for someone to be missing. Three years was a long time for someone to go so completely off of the radar, so much so that even demons didn't know where they were.

And if anyone should know where Sam is, it would be the demons, Sam being their all-important-man -in- charge and all, after Lilith's death.

Dean shook his head to rid himself of that thought. He had been told that Sam had taken Lilith's place; he was now the big boss man. It was Sam's job to somehow get everyone out of the basement that was hell, and back up onto the first floor, walking among humans.

Demons lie.

Dean shuddered at the thought, wishing he could forget all about it. Or better yet, that he'd never heard it to begin with, but he knew there was no forgetting what he'd heard. By all accounts, it was his little brother's sole purpose to bring about the Apocalypse. To make matters worse, he couldn't tell Naomi. He'd have to keep it from her, as she wasn't exactly Sam's biggest fan as it was.

And, just like magic, Naomi was on his mind, a million thoughts of her and a million memories all vying for his attention, some good, some bad. The one that managed to fight it's way to the forefront, though, was the most recent, the one that had occurred only moments before, when he had told his wife he was going on another hunt without coming home first, that he'd be home when this next hunt was finished.

Whenever that is. Because fuck knows I haven't had any luck over the past three years-what are the odds that I'm gonna suddenly hit a stroke of luck now?

Of course, he hadn't told Naomi that, taking it for granted that she'd be okay with the delay. She geneally was after all, never normally holding it against him, well, at least not for long. He hadn't banked on her fighting back, telling him in her cool, calm but no less angry tone that he would be coming home and his ass had better be leaving his crappy motel room the next morning. The argument which followed was burned into his memory, the fiery hot heat burning a path to his heart where it cooled and began to fill with a deep ache.

"If you don't come back between this hunt and the next, Dean, don't bother to come back at all."

Naomi's voice had been so filled with despair when she had uttered those words, and Dean had known in that moment that she had finally given up. She was no longer willing to fight it out with him.

"Naomi, come on, let's talk about this."

His voice had been desperate. He didn't want to throw his family away, and he hated himself in that moment for making it a possibility.

Well, hating myself more than usual, I mean.

Her voice had been so soft when she had uttered those last, painfully final words, the line still open and with it Dean's hope that she would pick the phone back up and tell him she didn't mean it, that it was going to be okay, that they would work something out like they had always done.

What actually had happened was something a little bit different and something so eerily familiar it made Dean want to hurl. When Sammy had said what he had said to Naomi, the sound slightly muffled as he tried to make everything okay again, Dean felt something twist inside him. He felt his stomach drop and a sharp tug at his heart. He felt guilty.

I always thought, always swore that my kid was never going to have the life I had growing up. Both parents would still be around, there would be a solid home base… I'd keep hunting, sure, but things at home would be stable. I mean I wouldn't just soley hunt on weekends but, whoever I married would be strong enough to deal with me not being around.

It had never once crossed his mind that there'd be any issue with that. No, Dean had always known deep down that it was the grocery run he would have issues with, standing in the cereal aisle wondering if his wife would approve of him buying their kid Lucky Charms. I wouldn't be the hunting, it would be the normalcy, the living life as someone who would interact with his kids teachers, sit down and help them with their math's homework. But damn if he hadn't tried to make it work, to give his family as normal a home life as he could. And damn if he hadn't failed .

I've gotta fix this, dammit. I'm sick of the million and one fuck-ups that my life is being based on and I'll be damned if my kid has to pick up the pieces or take the flack for my mistakes. He won't have to make his father's mistakes right like I had to. He won't have to fix things, to smooth things over like I had to do when Mom and Dad were bitching at each other or Sam and Dad were at each other's throats.

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and looked around the motel room, taking it in for the first time. It was a Winchester trait that they were extremely good with the peripheral vision and awareness shit. However, looking around the little room that he had turned into a safe haven, Dean felt like he was really seeing it for the first time. Because the truth was, there was nothing really different about this motel compared to the other million and ten he had stayed in over the course of his life. The only difference was that for the past three years he'd been alone.

Even when his dad had let him go on hunts himself, he'd done so with the knowledge that it was only temporary, that his dad would meet back up with him in a few days. They'd grab a room, and one or the other would leave, but only for a few days at a time, then Dean would be back to sharing a room again.

There's always been a sense of someone here, a sense of someone else's presence even if they weren't actually here. There's always been lame ass music playing, someone sharpening knives, someone typing on a laptop. There's always been someone else's breathing - or snoring depending on who was sharing. There's always been someone else. But it hasn't been like that for a long time.

Dean sighed heavily, eyes drinking in the motel room again, stopping when they landed on his cell phone, still lying on the carpet. The little voice inside Dean's head warned him that if he didn't go home now, he'd have no one. He'd be alone, and something told Dean that there wouldn't be anyone else for him. Reaching down, he picked the cell phone up, placing it on the bed beside him with an aching emptiness inside.

Usually after a hunt, he would go straight home to them, read Sammy a bedtime story, sink a few beers with Naomi curled against his chest, and listen to whatever was going on in her life that he had missed. But it seemed more logical to him right now to take this hunt, then come home and spend more time with his family.

Naomi obviously didn't see it that way, if her ultimatum was anything to go by.

I both hate and love the fact that she's so damn strong and fierce. She's still the girl I fell for all those years ago, still every bit as amazing. It staggering the way she can still love me, after everything we've been through, after everything I've put her through. She's stood by me no matter what. Hell, she fought for me often enough , why can't I seem to do the same for her?

The stabbing pain of loneliness only added to the pain of guilt that Dean was currently feeling. He wanted to go home now. The stubborn side of him wanted to stay put, make her come to him, make her realize that she was the one in the wrong and not him.

I only wanna find my brother-wouldn't she do the same if she was in my shoes? Dean shook his head sadly.

Naomi had been in his shoes once before, and she'd chosen Dean over her own father. Dean felt like a complete asshole in that moment. Naomi had always been the one to stand by him no matter what the cost to her, and here he was, off on some stupid crusade to find his brother, the same brother who had almost killed him.

If Naomi hadn't been there, he probably would have, Dean thought darkly, taking big strides over to the table next to the chair where his leather jacket hung haphazardly and snagged his wallet from the pile of protection stuff laid out on the table.

Two faces stared brightly at him from the pocket in his wallet. The same two faces which were currently eating cookies as his son tried to clean up his mess. Dean made his way back over to the bed, pulling out the photograph and the four others behind it. Naomi had taken all of his favorite photographs and made smaller, wallet-sized copies so that he would be able to have them with him all the time, without taking up too much space.

One was of just Sammy, sitting there smirking like crazy into the camera with Dean's sunglasses on as he made the rocker sign with his pudgy little fist. He was about two years old and was trying for a Mohawk. He'd known what he wanted, and despite Naomi's best efforts to keep his hair from that style, the little boy had somehow managed to get his way. Not alone - of course, he'd had help. Dean smiled at the memory of walking in on Lola styling Sammy's hair because the look was "so in"….

"Ohh, Dean," he heard Lola call in a sing-song voice as she tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open. Dean looked up to see her smiling down at them where they sat in the middle of Sammy's floor racing toy cars.

"NOOOOO!" Dean yelled in a mock-defeated tone and fell down onto the ground, his hands covering his eyes as Sammy got to his feet and started to do what could only be described as a victory dance.

"You suck, Daddy! I's win! Yous sucha loser, Daddy." Sammy jumped up and down beside Dean, waving his hands in the air and laughing, the sheer joy of victory etched on his smiling little face.

"Dean." Lola repeated, leaning her head against the door, after Dean had purposely choosen to ignore her in favour of using years of agility training to sit up and grab Sammy, pulling him towards him and tickling him breathless.

"Yeah?" Dean looked up at the door as Sammy squirmed in his grip, suddenly not too amused at the fact that his Dad could keep him in place with one hand.

"Naomi wants your duffle," she told him with a smirk. "She's doing the laundry and asked me to get your stuff-but since I'm not touching the toxic waste dump that you call a duffle, you need to get it," she finished, grinning at him with her most annoying look, a look that Dean had grown way too familiar with over the years. With a sigh, he stood up, tucking Sammy under his arm.

"Well if you're gonna be a pansy about it," Dean said with a smirk of his own, "…fine, I'll go get it," Dean started to walk towards the door, a gentle but firm grip on his son who was squirming again.

"Dadddy! Lemme goooo!" Sammy giggled, kicking his legs as Dean whistled, walking towards Lola with Sammy tucked sideways under his arm like a football. "DADDY!" Sammy giggled again.

"Did you hear something, Lola?" Dean asked as he spun around, pretending to look for where the voice was coming from.

"Daddy, I's right here, ya idjit!" Sammy kicked again, giggling as he made contact with Dean's back.

"Ah, there you are, how'd you get there? Uncle Bobby put you there? Because you are spending far too much time with him for my liking." Dean pressed a kiss to his son's hair after setting him down.

"And you is spending too much time with Momma," Sammy rubbed his head where his dad had kissed him. "Yuk! Only gir's do dat, Daddy." He glared up at Dean, a dimpled smile appearing when Dean let out a loud laugh and ruffled his hair, before he reluctantly left the room, the last thing he heard as he took the stairs two at a time was Lola asking Sammy if he wanted a new look.

Ten minutes and a few stolen kisses from Naomi later, Dean headed back into the den, ready to play only to freeze in the doorway.

"Damn, Lola" Dean said, shaking his head even as his lips curled into a smile as he fought back a laugh. With his sunglasses on and an almost-Mohawk taking shape on the top of his head, Sammy looked like a mini-me from a rock-and-roll poster. A cool as hell mini-me, sure, but one that was going to piss Naomi off nevertheless. If she didn't fall on her ass laughing first.

"Dude, I was gone all of five minutes, and you've already turned him into some 80s rock god-nice. Naomi is still going to have a fit when she sees this, though."

"She'll forgive me as soon as she sees how awesome this is-this look is so 'in' right now," Lola told him with a shrug as she put the final touches to Sammy's faux-hawk. "Besides, Sammy likes it, don't you, Sammy?"

"Sammy likes what?" Naomi asked as she came into the room, slipping her arms around Dean's waist and pressing a kiss against his shoulder. Of course, the moment couldn't last, as she peered around him and caught sight of Sammy. "LOLA!" Naomi yelled, breaking away from Dean and rushing over to her son. "I told you no!" Naomi had dropped to eye level with Sammy who simply smirked at her.

"You wike, Momma?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows as Dean was frequently known to do, and Naomi couldn't help but laugh.

"Well…you do suit it," she admitted after a moment of consideration, placing a kiss against his head before getting up to rummage through the side cabinet. "Alright, Mister Mini-Rocker, photo time." She grinned at him when he pushed off Lola's lap and raced over to the other sofa, waiting expectantly for Dean to lift him up onto it.

"Ready to rock, dude?" Dean asked, a smile on his face, waiting for a nod before he walked over to stand beside Naomi, his arm curling around her waist before he could even register it. Naomi sighed and leaned into him as Sammy yelled "Rock on!" and Naomi snapped the picture, laughing as Sammy began to launch into an array of poses, like he "see'd when momma was dressing people who was too lazy to do it demselves "

Naomi had had to explain to Sammy that they weren't too lazy, that she'd simply been helping them make sure the things fit and would look nice in the photographs. Of course, Dean tended to agree with Sammy on that one, but he was smart enough not to say so. Sammy hadn't cared much for the explanation, either, as he'd grown bored and hopped down from the couch, picking up his car and grabbing at the legs of Dean's jeans to come and play.

Dean smiled fondly, remembering the carpet burns on his knees that had caused him a little bit of discomfort on his next hunt. It was well worth it, he thought, his smile still intact as he ran his finger down the edge, carefully holding the photo between his thumb and forefinger.

After a long moment, Dean put the photograph to the back of the small bundle and let his fingers trace over the smiling face in the next one. Just Naomi. It was taken in Colorado-he remembered it clearly, because he'd taken it right after that hunt for the black dog in Denver had gone sour. He'd been busted up pretty bad, but then, as if things weren't bad enough, he'd gotten an infection that had knocked him on his ass…

"Yes, of course he can stay here, John. He'll be fine-it's no trouble, honestly,"

Dean was too exhausted to even think about moving, but the soft tone in Naomi's voice was enough to tell him that she was worried about him but totally trying to hide it from his dad.

"I'll take him with me if you want…."

Dean zoned out then, things were still a little tense between John and Naomi, even if they had come to some sort of understanding, but he was pretty sure John would come round; Naomi is Nine kinds of awesome after all."

"Dean?" Ah, Crap, I always zone out when I shouldn't, damn it.

"Mhmm?" Dean sat up on the couch and tried his best not to look as shitty as he felt, the pain meds and the antibiotics were wearing off fast and he knew he was still unusually pale after spending a week throwing his guts up and not being out in the sun. Not that this fucking log cabin in the middle of snowville ever even see's any sun….

"Behave. That's an order." John said abruptly. You can't be serious! You are, aren't you? Dude, I'm being left here, alone might I add! - with a smoking hot chick who totally loves me, and you tell me to behave! Besides, what I have in mind is only illegal in a few countries around the world. Nothing major. Dean told John what he knew his old man obviously wanted to hear, promising that he would be on his best behaviour before John took off, the roar of the engine fading the further away he got.

Besides, Naomi won't be telling on me, I'm sure of it.

"How you holding up?" Naomi asked, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pushed it away from his sweat-slick forehead. After she had made her way back to him after waving his dad off at the door she'd more or less manhandled him into settling back down.

"I'm fine," Dean smirked, uncurling from the ball he was currently snuggled into to settle a hand on Naomi's thigh and another on the small of her back.

"Sure you are, Let me know when the dizziness and nausea stops, hurl-y." Naomi rested her free hand on the hand Dean had rested on her thigh.

"Bed?" Dean tried his best to smirk at her, waggling his eyebrows in the hopes she would get the message. Naomi simply laughed at him, leaning down to kiss him softly on the head.

"What's the rush, stud? We have a whole week." She let her lips ghost over his and smiled, her forehead resting against his sweaty one. "Stay put, I'm going to go shower-I feel gross." Naomi wrinkled her nose in the most adorable way and Dean reached up, moving his hand from her thigh to her neck, fingers playing in the soft hair at the nape of her neck.

"You don't look gross," he said with a grin, though he knew exactly how she felt. When he'd at last been unable to take it anymore, he'd grudgingly agreed to let Naomi bathe him after refusing point blank to allow his dad to do it. Some things were just a bit too personal.

"I feel it, though," Naomi was saying, scrunching her nose up again in the cutest of ways, and Dean allowed himself a brief chick flick moment, kissing the tip of her nose playfully before staring into her eyes, their faces so close that their eyelashes fluttered together.

"You know, now that you mention it…how about a shower for me, too?" Dean meant it genuinely even though he knew it came out sounding like something else entirely. Not that he minded the insinuation or anything. Naomi giggled, before looking pensive for a moment.

"Alright," she said slowly after a moment of consideration. "I suppose it'll be a whole lot easier for you and less messy for me if I'm in there with you." She nodded, cracking up at Dean's face. "Or we could have a bubble bath…" Naomi trailed off, biting her lip seductively as she stood up. "I'll go start the water running, then come back for you," she told him as she bounded off to the bathroom, leaving Dean chuckling on the sofa.

When they decided that the water was never going to get cold in the Jacuzzi-like bath, they reluctantly pulled themselves out of the water and wrapped themselves in the thick towels that were by the heater.

"Stay here where it's warm while I go and start the fire in the bedroom-I probably should have done that when I was running the bath. You'll end up catching a cold and I've just managed to get on your dad's good side-he'll kill me if he comes back to find that I haven't, in fact, gotten you better but rather made you worse. I'm such an idiot," Naomi berated herself, pacing the bathroom and leaving trails of water.

"Mimi." Dean stated as he patted himself dry, muscles still sore from the hunt. When she didn't stop babbling or pacing, Dean put out his good arm and managed to grab hold of her bicep, reeling her in towards him. Naomi shut up then, allowing Dean to pull her into a hug, she didn't want to hurt him by fighting.

"Hey, you made it nice and cozy in here, and I'm plenty warm. I had a nice bath, I'm all clean and I feel so much better. Well mostly-I mean, my shoulder still hurts like a bitch, but hey, shit happens," he told her, resting his chin on her head contentedly.

"Well, stay here next to the heater. I won't be long." She smiled up at him, placing a kiss against his smile before rushing into the bedroom.

It took her fifteen minutes to return, and when she did, her hair was starting to form into its natural curls. Most notably, though, she was wearing one of Dean's button-downs, grinning as she handed him boxers, sweat pants and a t-shirt. "Couldn't resist." she confessed when Dean raked his eyes up and down her body as she twirled for him, before standing on tiptoe to kiss him.

"I'll never be able to wear that shirt again without thinking of you in it," he murmured against her lips, pulling her close in a tight embrace.

"Ever think that was the plan, Winchester?" Naomi winked at him. "Get dressed-I have a movie starting and I just put some soup on the stove, so I should probably go keep an eye on that one.. My mom showed me how to do it, so no need to completely freak out, you won't get food poisoning or anything. It's Tomato and rice." She smiled sweetly and Dean closed his eyes as bittersweet memories swept over him. He hadn't had tomato and rice soup in so long. Part of him wondered how she knew, while the other part told him not to think too hard about it and just enjoy the fact that she did. "Come on," she whispered, standing right up on tip toe and gently pulling his head down to place a kiss to his brow. "I'll be out here when you're ready."

They both knew the meaning behind that statement, they both knew the doubled weightiness to it. He couldn't go out in just the towel-well, okay, he could-but really, she was giving him time to put the mask up again, if he wanted to, that is. Dean loved how he didn't have to, how she could listen to what he's not saying, how when things get to be too much, she didn't judge him. She let him trash areas of her apartment, once even offering to get a punch bag set up in the spare room for him to vent on, and then being willing to settle into bed with him and letting him hold her a little closer than he normally would, all without asking questions. He loved that she got it.

Dean watched her walk way, a small smile on his face before he painstakingly slipped into the fresh clothes and went out to meet her. She was kneeling in front of the TV, two bowls beside her as she hummed a tune under her breath.

"Seriously, babe. Elvis?" Dean asked and smiled when she stopped stirring to look at him, a broad smile on her face as she nodded.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with The King, I'll have you know Winchester!" Naomi shook her head as she turned to the bowls "Come taste this and see if it's warm enough, cause I can put it on again if its not" She held the spoon out to him and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Why can't you?" he asked, even as he crossed the room, because he knew it'll be warm enough-it's been sitting on a stove for at least 20 minutes, but he took the opportunity as the escape from talking about his feelings over the damn flavour of the soup that it was. "More to the point, why didn't you check it before putting it in the bowls?"

"Because it had steam coming off it at first, and I was so not putting that anywhere near my mouth and it might still be really hot and there's not a chance in hell that I'm burning my mouth." Naomi smirked at him, fun shining in her massive blue eyes, the fire to the side of the TV casting a shadow over her features making them appear slightly darker.

"Oh, so it's okay if I get burned? Nice," Dean said with a playful glare as he sat down and leaned forward, opening his mouth and allowing her to feed him, pretty much like she had been doing for the past few days anyway.

"It's good, you won't burn your precious pretty little mouth on the big bad bowl of soup." The smile he gave her reached his eyes, which in turn shone with a playful spark, and Naomi nodded, placing the spoon back on the tray next to the bowls "Thanks," Dean whispered and he meant it. She was the first chick ever really to take care of his like this since his mom, and well, it was nice.

"Anytime." Naomi placed a kiss to his cheek. "Come on, let's get you into bed," she instructed him as she put the bowls onto the tray, reaching up to steady him when he almost stumbled. She saved his ego by clinging to him and using him to get to her feet. "What would I do without you, huh?" Naomi kissed him, pulling him over to the bed with her.

"What about the soup?" Dean asked, looking forlornly at the two steaming bowls abandoned on the tray.

"You know, patience is a virtue," she told him, lecturing him playfully as she gently maneuvered him toward the bed. "And here I thought the promise of me and a bed was going to be a good enough distraction. Obviously, I have nothing on soup when it comes to your appetite," she told him playfully. She grinned at him, pulling back the covers and removing the electric blanket. "In, or it'll get chilly."

So Dean did, and they spent the next few hours eating, talking, tickling, and making out. It was a world away from what he was used to: the hunting, the silence, being a soldier. He wasn't raised like this, hell, he wasn't raised for this. And Dean knew it. Naomi curled up against him, all warm and snug, banishing all thoughts of hunting from his mind.

"Smile."

There was a blinding flash, and Dean knew he should have been used to this by now, but for the love of God…

"Dude, when I say 'smile,' I generally mean it." Naomi scolded mildly as she looked at the picture on the little digital screen with a frown.

"Hell, you didn't give me any warning! You said the word as you took the picture!" Dean tried his best to sound annoyed, but he couldn't-Naomi looked so adorable laying there.

"I though you were supposed to have these 'lightning quick reflexes!'" Naomi argued back, deleting the picture with a sigh, squeaking when Dean grabbed the camera from her.

"Smile," he laughed, pressing the button that would capture the photograph.

"You suck!" Naomi called, even as she joined in with his laughter.

Staring down into Naomi's happy face, Dean smiled at how young she looked, the photograph having been taken during Sam's Stanford days. A whole lifetime ago. She was in the shirt Dean was currently wearing; it was his favorite and he wouldn't part with it for the world, the blue material contrasting her tanned skin and the brilliant white of the sheets; her long light brown hair fanned across the pillow in a mass of curls as she pretended to hide from his gaze - and her camera.

She hadn't been that happy in a long time. His heart aching at the realization, he quickly flipped to the next photograph, smiling once more at the image caught in the picture.

Like father like son, Dean chuckled when he flipped to the next picture. Naomi had taken a picture of Sammy asleep on Dean's chest, both of her boys clutching onto their respective bottles. Dean's was a bottle of Coke and Sammy's was his bottle of milk. Both of them had a loose grip around the edge of their respectively chosen beverages, and both were sound asleep. It was one of those memories that, no matter what, he would always be able to recall, no matter what. It was the 2008 Super Bowl game between the New York Giants and the New England Patriots, and Naomi had had to work on some designs. So Dean had taken it upon himself to teach his 18-month old son the rules of football. Of course, Naomi had been a little leery of his parenting skills…

"I can take him you know," he told her as he glanced away from the TV to see her trying unsuccessfully to balance the squirming toddler and her sketchbook on her lap. "I'm not completely redundant as a parent, you know." the mischief in his eyes causing Naomi to swat at his arm.

"Asshat," she growled at him, looking every bit as stressed as she sounded with her hair messily arranged on her head, her glasses askew, and an old t-shirt of Dean's paired with her oldest cut-off shorts.

"Hey, none of that in front of my little man," Dean told her playfully, rubbing Sammy's cheek with his thumb and conveniently choosing to ignore the fact that he'd said something similar to the quarterback on the TV screen a few moments ago. He smiled over at Naomi only to take pity on her when he saw her looking a step away from bursting into tears.

"Give him here," he said, holding his arms out, waiting to take Sammy from Naomi.

"No, it's fine," she told him, waving him off. "He'll go down for a nap in an hour or so anyways, I can occupy him 'til then-"

"Naomi," Dean cut her off, cupping her jaw to capture her attention. "I know I'm not here a whole hell of a lot, but you're not a single parent. I'm here right now, yeah? I think I owe Sammy a few good hours of male bonding. I also owe you a few good hours of childcare. I'm not some dead beat dad with a shitload of excuses and no parenting skills, Naomi. I'm not gonna hurt him." Dean was pretty sure Naomi had picked up on the hurt he was feeling, considering the way his voice trembled slightly, sounding slightly choked as he finally decided to shut up.

"I didn't mean it that way," she said apologetically as she placed Sammy in his arms. "I love you, you know that?" Naomi leaned forward, stretching up to place a kiss against his lips. "You're like nine kinds of awesome," she told him, borrowing a phrase that she'd no doubt heard from him numerous times. She let her head rest against his shoulder, watching with apt fascination as Sammy buried his face in Dean's neck with a sigh of content.

"I'm not, really." Dean kissed her on the temple, "I'm just lucky that you two forgive the fact I'm gone a whole lot and still love me when I come home, aren't I buddy?" He grinned at Sammy who had caught hold of the cord that his amulet was hanging on.

"We forgive you cause we love you. We love you when you're gone, too, you know." Naomi looked up at Dean, smirking when he looked into her eyes. "So what do you think, buddy?" she asked Sammy, "You wanna watch the ball game with Pops?" Naomi's lips turned into a smirk when Dean quirked an eyebrow at her choice of moniker.

"Baw." Sammy smiled brightly at Dean, clapping his hands together. "Daddy, baw?" he asked hopefully, long lashes almost brushing against Dean's when he leaned in close to Dean's face. "Now?"

Naomi couldn't suppress the laugh and Dean had to chuckle too, "Yeah, Sammy. Ball, now." Dean nodded, nuzzling his son affectionately as Naomi stood up with a sigh, hugging the sketch book to her. "Say 'see you later, Momma!' Because your momma has a shitload of work to do."

"And you warned me about my language?" Naomi rolled her eyes at Dean, the grin never leaving her lips, even as he stood up beside her and grabbed for his beer bottle, putting it on the mantle, way out of Sammy's reach. "Alright, Prince, Momma will be in the kitchen" She told Sammy sweetly, "if anything goes wrong, holler for me, okay? Make sure Daddy behaves," She finished before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek.

"'kay, Momma." Sammy grinned, hand never letting go of Dean's amulet.

"Don't I get a kiss?" Dean asked, turning his cheek to Naomi.

"You play your cards right and you'll get more than that, baby. But later. Much later." Naomi winked at Dean, smacking him on the ass when she walked out of the den. Only to arrive back with armfuls of coke and baby bottles. "You'll need these." she announced with a smile, placing them down on the coffee table before she's vanishing into the kitchen and closing the door.

"Well, little man, it looks like its just you and me. Now, there are a few things you need to know about watching this on the TV." Dean told him as he settled them onto the couch. Dean was unable to fight the grin when Sammy wormed around on his lap, making himself much more comfortable to snuggle into him.

"Baw." Sammy said, sleep tugging at his speech as he looked towards the TV, the game already started. "Bah-bah." Sammy made a grabby motion with his hands, reaching out towards the bottle on the table.

"Good idea, kiddo." Dean ruffled Sammy's hair, leaning forward to grab his son's bottle and a bottle of coke for himself. "So, as I was saying, first rule when watching a game: if you don't support either team, you pick one and you stick with it. No switching teams because the one you picked is losing, okay?" Dean opened the bottle of Coke, careful not to spill any on Sammy who was happily drinking from his own bottle and nodding against his chest.

Sammy was asleep by half time, and Dean himself didn't make it to the third quarter.

"Hey," It was so softly spoken that if Dean wasn't as trained as he was, he would have missed it entirely. His muscles drew taught and he fought his gut instinct to open his eyes, then he felt the fingers raking through his hair and he forced his eyes open slowly.

"Hi." Dean grinned sleepily at Naomi, visibly relaxing when it clearly wasn't some demonic entity that was raking its fingers through his hair. He let out a soft sigh before eyeing the small bundle on his chest.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your nap," Naomi whispered, smiling down at him as she kissed him on the head. "I'm going to put Sammy into his crib, and when he's awake at like three in the morning, you can deal with him." She was grinning as she gently removed Sammy's bottle from his hand and gathered him into her arms.

"Go back to sleep Dean, its going to be a long night," Naomi told him with a grin.

"Ah, fuck." Dean cursed low under his breath, rubbing his eyes the exact time Sammy chose to do the same in her arms.

"Like father like son," She said softly, looking down at Dean affectionately before walking out of the den.

Dean stroked his fingers over the tiny image of his son, who was not so tiny and had a hell of a lot more energy now.

He shouldn't have to be like me, Dean thought bitterly. He shouldn't have to make fix my mistakes. He shouldn't have to pick up the pieces after I fuck up.

Unable to take looking at the picture anymore, the memory a little too raw, Dean flipped to the last picture, a feeling of home welling up in his chest, an intense feeling of love and security, of family, filling his heart, all bitterness and pain put on hold for a second as he looked down at the most recently taken picture, a family snapshot that had been taken when Dean was last home. Three weeks ago.

"Hello young man, I'm looking for my little boy. His name's Sammy. He looks just like you, only a lot smaller," Dean told Sammy as he stood at the door, bruised and exhausted from his latest hunt but smiling nonetheless.

"'s me, Daddy!" Sammy looked up at Dean, all smiles and excitement.

"Nah, you're too tall." Dean shook his head, and shrugged.

"No! Is me Daddy, I pwomise! You fights bad guys, you dwive da' Mustang cause Momma has your 'pala." Sammy looked around for something to prove he was indeed Dean's son. "You say "shit" a whole wot, an' Momma smacks yous and calls yous an asshat." Sammy smiled brightly at Dean who dropped his duffle and hauled Sammy into his arms, hugging his little boy tightly to him. "See, Daddy, I am your Sammy." And while the words were enough to choke him up, it was the utter conviction in Sammy's voice that was the real kicker.

"Oh yeah, you got that one right."

Still holding Sammy in one arm, he looked up to see Naomi leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, visibly fighting the urge to run at Dean until he opened his arm for her. It was always like this, Naomi never just came to him but instead would wait to be invited. Dean rested his head against Naomi's, relishing in the way she just seemed to fit against him. They way they fit together as a family.

No-one even noticed the flash go off, but all three of them were visibly startled with the loud and high pitched "Awww!" that filled the hollow of the hallway, the noise vibrating against all of the walls.

"What the fu…dge," Dean snapped, his head looking in the direction of the noise.

How the hell did I miss someone coming in?

Lola stood there, a goofy grin on her face and a camera in her hands. Apparently Naomi wasn't the only one with a fascination for cameras.

"You guys, look so freakin' cute." She beamed, waving the camera at them. "It was totally a Kodak moment."

"But I weren't wookin'!" Sammy pouted, looking from Dean to Naomi then to Lola. "Why's you take a picture when I weren't even wookin'?" he asked, a scowl matching his father's firmly in place, clearly conveying his utter annoyance at the situation.

"Because," Lola said as she walked towards them, the goofy grin refusing to leave her face, "you were smiling, not just fake-posing for the picture." Lola stopped in front of them, rolling her eyes as Sammy raised his eyebrow at her.

"Bet it's a shitty pi-ture since we wasn't wookin'" Sammy stated, obviously unimpressed with Lola's explaination.

"Sammy!" Dean and Naomi both scolded at once, causing Sammy's eyebrows to shoot into his hair line as he turned to look at Lola with a frown.

"See, now wooks what you did. I gots into trouble by Momma and Daddy, at the same time, and i's all your fault!" Sammy pouted and the three adults fought the urge to laugh.

"Are we ever going to see this picture?" Naomi asked impatiently.

"Oh, sure," Lola flicks the picture up on the screen of the digital camera and turning the camera towards them.

Dean couldn't believe how the picture had turned out; Sammy was snuggled into one side of his neck, and he and Naomi both were smiling at him, Dean's arms wrapped tightly around the two people that mattered most in the world to him as Naomi's hand rested on Sammy's back, her head tucked under Dean's chin.

"That's…" Naomi started, her voice trailing off.

"Being printed and framed for the perfect blackmail material that it is!" Lola grinned at her, already backing away towards the den where Naomi's makeshift office had been set up while they converted a bedroom into a more suitable room for her.

"Yeah." Naomi husked out, her arm tightening around Dean.

"I want a copy of that one. But don't tell her that," Dean muttered into his wife's hair, the soft scent of vanilla filling his senses.

"Wells nows we gots that cweared up, can we pway outside, Daddy?" Sammy asked him, looking up at him, green orbs filled with hope and fun, and Dean found himself agreeing without a second thought.

Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face again, a rough sigh forcing its way through his teeth. He picked up his phone again, flipped it open and scrolled down to Naomi's number, his finger hovering over the call button. Dean pressed it and held it to his ear, counting three rings before it went to her voicemail.

Nice, Mimi. Except I totally deserve it. Dean felt a sudden emptiness, which left him feeling hollow inside.

"Shit." He swore out loud. Raising his eyes heavenward.

She's too fucking good at this passive-aggressive shit, Dean thought, although he somehow couldn't manage any anger at her, not when he knew good and well that she was probably justified.

With newfound resolution, Dean once again began to pack up the motel room.

If I don't want Sammy to be his father's son, then I can't be either.


Naomi wondered just how much of the argument between herself and Dean that Sammy had heard, because he had practically glued himself to her side, refusing to let her out of his sight, taking his vow of "I'll never leave you" to a whole new level.

His vigilance, however, had worn him out, which meant he was snuggled up against Naomi, his head tucked under her jaw as she enjoyed the silence in the house. Lola was gone for the weekend, Sammy was in an exhausted stupor, and the TV wasn't providing much amusement, so she had shut it off, disconnected the land-line, and put hers on silent after Dean had called her.

The house is silent, she realized suddenly, the thought hitting her like her Mustang slamming into a brick wall at 90 mph. The house is silent, because Dean's not here.

Naomi suddenly felt lonely, the kind of lonely that was only made worse by the knowledge that it was self-inflicted. Naomi still couldn't get the argument and her ultimatum out of her head, mainly because she knew she was wrong. She knew why Dean stayed away. It was the exact same reason he came home, too.

Family. Naomi tried to stop the tears in her eyes from slipping down her face. I'm such a bitch. I know I want Dean here to be with us, to be safe here. But it's not fair to ask him to stay-it'd be asking to ask him to give up on his brother.

The truth was, anyone could see that it hurt him to leave. She could see it in his eyes every time he walked out of the door.

But I wish he wouldn't go on this helpless crusade for Sam. He clearly doesn't want to be found, and it's killing Dean a little more every time he comes home without the floppy-haired son of a bitch in tow.

"Momma?" Sammy looked up at her sleepily, a confused look on her face and Naomi quickly wiped up the few tears that had fallen.

"Hey sweetie, I think its bedtime, don't you?" Naomi giggled, pressing a kiss to Sammy's head as she lifted up into her arms, getting to her feet.

"Don't be sad,." Sammy whispered, his fingers tangling in ends of her hair. "Wet it be, wet it be, 'isper wor's wisdom, wet it be." Sammy slurred his way through the song, fingers not stopping until he had successfully tied her hair in a knot.

Naomi smiled as she climbed the stairs. "You do know that it's going to take me forever to brush that out, don't you?" She kissed him again as she walked into his bedroom, settling him on the bed before she rummaged through his drawer to get him his favorite Batman pajamas.

"Your momma uses to sing dat to you whens you were wittle, dint she?" Sammy asked on a yawn, making his way under the covers before receiving a stern look from Naomi.

"She did." Naomi nodded fondly, helping Sammy get himself undressed and into his pajamas. "Come brush your teeth."

"Do I gotta?" Sammy grumbled, holding his hands up to be carried.

"Yes, I'll sing the song to you if you hurry up." Naomi grinned when Sammy pushed himself off of his bed and hurried to the bathroom, not running like he usually did, but fast enough.

"Cans you sing, 'Hey Dude,' too, like Daddy does sometimes?" Sammy asked as he waited for Naomi to give him his toothbrush with the toothpaste on it.

"We'll have to see, Sammy-you seem pretty tired." Naomi looked down at her son, only to cringe at the puppy-dog expression she saw gazing back at her.

Why does he have to make those goddamned faces, Dean does it all the fucking time and I cannot, for the life of me, say no. Dammit.

Naomi huffed out a breath at her pouting son and rolled her eyes. "I'll sing 'Hey Jude' tomorrow night, deal?" Naomi smiled at Sammy, who looked pensive for a moment, even stopped brushing his teeth, the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

"Kays." He nodded his agreement, managing to spray toothpaste everywhere.

"I'm also going to have to clean that-you really are your father's son, you know that?" Naomi shook her head, a small smile gracing her features.

"Sowwy," Sammy said sweetly, his mouth still full of toothpaste, before he spat into the sink, rinsing his mouth with the water Naomi handed him before grinning up at her to show her he'd done a good job.

"Alright, bed." Naomi grinned when Sammy handed her the toothbrush and trudged off to bed, leaving her to clean up.

"Momma?" Sammy called just as Naomi was putting away the cleaning supplies, and washing her hands.

"Yeah, pumpkin?" Naomi called back, a strange feeling of safety and home suddenly welling up in her chest, although she had no idea why.

"Come sing to me," he grumbled impatiently, instantly filling her head with images of what Dean liked to call Sammy's 'pouty face', his brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Just a minute," Naomi called back, drying her hands and checking that the window of the bathroom was shut and the salt line in place before walking through to see Sammy snuggled up under his blankets. She flipped the dimmer switch on and walked over to the bed, snuggling up to her son.

"Night Sammy." She kissed him on the head and looked towards the window, waiting for him to go and say goodnight. Sammy looked up at her and shook his head.

"Moooommmma, I already said nights when you was takin' forever to put my toofbrush away." Sammy snuggled down onto the bed, his arm around Naomi's thigh and that was going to be a bitch to wiggle out of once he was asleep. "Night, Momma, wuv you. Now sing," he demanded and Naomi rolled her eyes.

"Love you, too, baby," She stroked his hair, her fingers sliding through the silky strands. "And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be. For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see, there will be an answer. Let it be." Naomi paused for a second and grinned at Sammy's even breathing, a soft snore escaping, and Naomi let out a sigh of relief.

He so doesn't need to see me fall apart.

She untangled herself from her little man's grip, pressing a kiss to his temple as she started the familiar night-time ritual of checking that his window was closed and locked, the salt lines were laid, and his night light was on before heading for the door. "Goodnight, love," she whispered from the doorway, turning the dimmer light off and leaving the door open a smidge so that she could hear him if he called. She only paused for a moment to glance at the picture of her and Dean hanging on the wall outside of Sammy's room before heading down the stairs with a sigh.

Beer, she thought. She didn't normally drink after she and Dean had had a fight, terrified she would become addicted to the liquid problem solver, but tonight she needed to chill and unwind. It took her all of five minutes to grab a beer and head back to the den, pushing open the door and closing it behind her.

"JESUS CHRIST!" she exclaimed, her heart jumping in her chest as she suddenly noticed him sitting there on the sofa.

"Nah, just me," he said with a smirk, but the ease of the expression didn't quite reach his eyes, and Naomi didn't know whether to be extremely angry or just plain happy that he was here.

"What are you doing here?" she chose to ask instead, still reeling from the shock even as she was caught between anger and relief.

"You told me to come home," he told her, a small but genuine smile on his face that left her feeling guilty.

"That means shit these days and you know it, Dean," Naomi bit out, her guilt paling in comparison to the anger that suddenly decided to boil in the pit of her stomach. She placed the beer bottle down on the coffee table, looking back to make sure the door was shut properly.

"No, Naomi, it doesn't, and you know it." The hurt in Dean's eyes was betrayed by the anger in his tone and she rolled her eyes.

"Since when do you give a shit about anything I say, Dean? Do you realise how long it's been since we sat down and talked about things?" Naomi snapped at him, holding up her hand to keep him quiet until she was done. "I know we're far from the conventional couple-kinda why I thought this would work. God, Dean, I love you, I do. But I cannot keep coming second to the hunt, to the obligation you feel you have to keep the whole fucking world safe. I can't keep coming second to a brother who abandoned you."

Naomi let those words hang in the air, weighty and thick between them, even as her heart ached at the pain her words sparked in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean, but I won't, and I'll be damned if I'll let you do it to Sammy, too." Her voice was softer, the anger that had come so quickly gone, leaving her feeling sad and crushed inside.

"Four weeks, three days," Dean muttered, looking at the picture of himself and Naomi on the mantel, having turned away at the first mention of Sam.

"What?" Naomi asked, tiredness creeping into her voice and into through lack of sleep.

"It's been four weeks and three days since we last talked about things. We talked about how far we'd come while we were walking home from the diner. Lola had Sammy for the night, we talked about where we were going. We talked about more kids. We talked about settling down somewhere, a ranch where you could have horses like you did as a kid and I could still help hunters. We talked." Dean looked around then, his emotionless mask was set, even his eyes unreadable.

"Dean-" Naomi began but closed her mouth when Dean shook his head.

"When I was little, my mom and dad would argue when they thought I had gone to bed. Mom rarely lost her temper, but you've met my dad-he'd try the patience of a saint, and we all know it." Dean let out a little laugh, turning around to lean back against the desk chair. "I heard everything. All the time. When we argued earlier, when you slammed the phone down…you hadn't hung up. I heard Sammy reassuring you, Naomi, and it was like my own damn memories were being played out in front of me. I just…I don't want him to be like me." Dean shook his head, his voice trailing off.

"Dean, I'm sorry." Naomi looked at her feet, fluffy monster feet slippers Dean had gotten her somehow lightening the moment. "I shouldn't have given you that ultimatum. I'm in no position to be making you choose between your hunt and us. There's no reason you can't do both, I just…I just want you here with us, too. We miss you. I miss you." Naomi choked back tears, the thought of seeing Dean just barely holding on driving a pain through her the likes of which no one else but Sammy could elicit.

"I know you do, and I want to be home with you and Sammy, too, but…I've gotta find him, Naomi. I have to." Dean grinned at her and shrugged helplessly.

"Dean, I would give anything not to say this to you. But, I'm worried this is useless. You are shit hot at finding people Dean, it's what you do. You taught your little brother to do the same thing," Naomi paused, trying to find the right words, the situation was just defusing, it would be fatal if she picked the wrong words. "Sam doesn't want to be found, so he won't be found Dean. I'm just worried your running yourself into the ground for this and that isn't going to do the blind bit of good." Naomi paused, meeting Dean's gaze, before carefully continuing. "Dean, I'm not asking you to stop looking for Sam, but I mean, Three years? So, couldn't you just cut back on your search time for Sam and start spending a little more time here with us. Its only fair." Naomi stepped closer to Dean, within arms reach, and then stopped, unsure how he would react.

"Yeah, I guess I could do that," He told her softly, his voice reflecting his relief that she'd given him an easy off. "You know…I was looking at those photos you printed off for me. You really haven't aged a bit." Dean looked up then, reaching out and pulling Naomi into him, and settling his arms around her as she rubbed his arm.

"Sure I have. I have wrinkles now, 'laughter lines' as my dad called them. I have stretch marks and a whole load of worry lines too." Naomi rested her arms on Dean's shoulders as he palmed her hips.

"You do not have wrinkles." Dean looked at Naomi as though she was nine kinds of crazy before shaking his head.

"I do, but it's alright. Being with the same guy who stresses you out and has prevented you from getting a decent night's sleep since you were, like, eighteen has that effect on a person. If having a few wrinkles means reliving all the good and bad times we've had, I'll be getting Botox soon." Naomi grinned at Dean when he rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry for being a dick earlier," Dean said abruptly, all playfulness as he looked Naomi in the eyes, green orbs meeting a blue gaze in such an intense stare that neither of them could look away.

"Its fine, I'm used to it by now." Naomi smirked, leaning forward to press a kiss to Dean's lips, something she had wanted to do since she saw him in the den.

"Was wondering how long it would take you to do that," Dean whispered against her lips, hands coming up to rake through her hair, effectively anchoring her to him as he deepened the kiss.

"Maybe we should, uh, take this upstairs?" Naomi managed out when Dean finally released her mouth and decided to trail a blaze of kisses across her jaw and down her throat.

"Even better," he said, grinning appreciatively. He smirked at her, kissing her shoulder before letting her step back. "Grab me a bottle while I say goodnight to my little man?" he asked as he followed her towards the door and watched her grab the forgotten bottle of beer.

"Okay, I'll be up as soon as I've checked the doors and windows down here." Naomi turned to smile at him, relishing in the way he wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her in for another kiss.

"No need. I just set the alarm. I checked while you were singing 'Let It Be.'" Dean grinned against her lips, tracing patterns with his fingers on her lower back.

"Have I told you that I love you recently?" Naomi sighed, tucking her head under Dean's chin.

"Yeah, about five minutes ago while you were eloquently pointing out my douchebaggery. Sorry about that." Dean looked anywhere but at Naomi who brought a hand up to cup his jaw.

"You don't always have to be the strong one, Dean. Sometimes you can't make it on your own and that's where I come in-let me help you from time to time." She pressed a kiss to his neck. "Go on and say goodnight to Sammy-I'll be waiting for you," she smiled, hand sliding down his chest as she kissed him on the cheek and headed to the kitchen for his beer with one last coy smile.


Dean took the stairs two at a time, gently pushing open Sammy's bedroom door, smiling when he found his son sitting up in bed, staring excitedly back at him. "Shouldn't you be asleep, Shortstop?" Dean asked, walking towards the bed, bracing himself for the force that was his three year old son. His breath coming out in a little "oof" anyway when Sammy launched himself at him.

"I missed you, Daddy," he said on a yawn. "Momma's not weawy mad at you, you know." Sammy looked up at Dean, reluctantly letting him go to settle under the covers that Dean had pulled back from him. "She wuvs you, Daddy, and I wuv you, too." Sammy snuggled down into the covers, his eyes never leaving Dean's.

"I know, buddy. I love the both of you, too, and I always will, no matter what," Dean ruffled Sammy's hair. "So how come you aren't asleep?"

Sammy looked worried for a second, his eyes now looking anywhere but at Dean before he let out a little sigh. "I heard you and Momma fussin'. It wakeded me up." He shook his head sadly and Dean thumbed his cheek.

"Sometimes people have to get really angry with each other before they listen to what the other person is saying and think about it." Dean explained. "It doesn't mean that they don't love each other any less."

"So you wuv Momma da same?" Sammy looked at up Dean, sleep pulling at him again.

"Yeah, Sammy. Even when we fight, I love your momma with all my heart and I always will. She's the best thing that ever happened to me, 'cept for you, and don't you ever forget it," he told him vehemently, wanting, needing Sammy to understand. Dean ran his fingers through Sammy's hair and glanced up at the doorway where Naomi was standing, their shadows merging on the floor in the barely lit room.

"And I love your daddy, so much, Sammy. He's the best, even though I'm silly and forget it sometimes." Naomi walked into the room and sat at the bottom of the bed, legs pulled up under her.

"I wuvs yous bof, too." Sammy nodded, speech slightly slurred through sleep. "Hey Dude, Momma." He opened his eyes again and looked at Naomi, sparkling green orbs lit up.

"Sammy," Naomi warned, tilting her head to side. "I said tomorrow night, not tonight."

"But, Momma, it helps me seep." Sammy stifled a yawn and did his best to look pleadingly at Naomi.

"Come on, Mimi, please?" Dean mirrored his son's look and Naomi huffed out a breath, crawling up the bed and linking her fingers with Dean's.

"Or, you could sing it to him. It's your song Dean." Naomi smirked.

"It's the Beatles' song, you're only borrowing it." Dean smirked back at her, knowing full well he could totally win this one.

"But, I've already sang tonight and my throat hurts." Naomi smiled sweetly and faked a cough, earning a raised eyebrow from Sammy.

"Momma, my throat has the owwies too, cuz someone forgots to gives me my milk. But, I's not compw..com…bein' a girl bout it." Sammy nodded up at her and Naomi rolled her eyes.

"She forgot your milk, shortstop? I think your momma should make it up to you by singing to you." Dean nodded down at Sammy who grinned up at him, looking between Dean and Naomi.

"me too." Sammy agreed, flashing his best dimpled smile at Naomi, sitting upright between his parents when Dean leaned in for a kiss. "Woah! Don bes kissin-dat's gwoss." Sammy yawned and snuggled down between them. Dean and Naomi both let out a little laugh before Naomi began to sing, softly.

"Hey, Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better, remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better. Hey Jude, don't be afraid, you were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better. And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, don't carry the world upon your shoulders. For well you know it's a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder."

Dean looked at Naomi as she sang, his eyes stinging with the tears he refused to shed, the weight of the lyrics hitting him for the first time. I love you. His fingers gripped tighter around Naomi's and the grip she had on his reflexively tightened, silently letting him know that she knew and she understood.

Naomi and Dean both sat there until they were certain Sammy was asleep before either of them spoke. "Come on, I turned the sheets down in our room," Naomi said with a soft smile at him, and with a smile of his own, Dean leaned over and brushed the hair out of her eyes.

"I meant what I said earlier," he whispered, gently getting off of the bed and helping Naomi do the same.

"I know you did, Dean, and I did too. I hate the fact you miss this every single night, but I understand why you do it." Naomi smiled softly at him, pressing a kiss on his lips as she threaded her fingers through his, leading him out of the room and down the hall into their own.


"Can we go outside now? Can we go outside now? Outside, Daddy, now, pwease?" Sammy ran into the kitchen as Dean read the paper at the table.

"Not until your momma's awake, Shortstop-we can't go waking her up," Dean told him apologetically.

"But I bes quiet, I pwomise!" Sammy protested, his jaw set in a determined line.

"No, no you won't," Dean said with a laugh, knowing damn good and well that neither one of them was wired for 'quiet.' He smiled down at his son fondly, noting that it didn't look like Sammy was wired for 'neat' or 'fashionable' either; his blonde hair sticking up at odd angles and a t-shirt pulled on inside out, his sweat pants tucked into his socks, and his shoes on the wrong feet. "How about we get you fixed up first before your momma catches sight of you?" Dean chuckled and Sammy raised an eyebrow at him.

"Wha's wong wif me?"

"You're a fashion disaster, son," Dean said with mock solemnity. "And your momma would take one look at you and blame me."

"Dat not funny. I wook good," Sammy said indignantly, looking down at himself with a look of pure satisfaction that only a three-year-old could manage.

"Well you certainly get kudos for confidence- that's the Winchester in you." Dean chuckled again, closing the paper and walking over to Sammy. "But your t-shirt is on inside-out, your sweats are tucked into your socks and your shoes are on the wrong feet, little man."

"Dude, I'm fwee." Sammy stated as though it was the singularly most obvious thing to say to someone who was telling you that you couldn't dress yourself properly.

"Yeah, that's true. And all in all, not a bad try. You did pretty good here, but let's fix it up a bit so your momma doesn't kick my ass." He smiled brightly at Sammy, before dropping down next to the chair and pulling Sammy's sneakers off, untucking his sweats from his socks before he put the sneakers on the right feet.

"Arms up."

Sammy let out a sigh and held his arms above his head as Dean took his top off and twisted it the right way before putting it back on. "Tanks…now cans we go out?" Sammy smiled up at him earnestly, earning himself a ruffle of his hair before Dean smoothed it back down as best he could.

"Breakfast first," he said as he lifted Sammy into the booster seat at the table. "Maybe by the time you're finished, your momma will be up. What would you like?" he asked, cutting off his son before Sammy had the chance to turn on the waterworks.

"Cheewios," Sammy said on a sigh, looking mournfully at the back door.

"I promise, as soon as your momma's up, you and me, we'll go outside and play." Dean made his way over to the cupboard to get the bowl before making his way over to the fridge to get the cereal from the top, smiling when his fingers brushed against the cool metal of the handgun that was far enough back for Sammy not to be able to reach it, but for Dean to be able to grab in case of an emergency. It's a secret weapon that only he and Naomi knew about. Our little secret. He smiled softly, pulling the door open to get the milk. "You want juice?" Dean asked, knowing without looking that Sammy was still staring at the door.

"Apple."

"Apple, what?" Dean felt his heart race, in awe at how even after all this time, Naomi's voice could still do that to him. Shit, Dean, chick flick much?

"Morning all." Naomi's voice was still sleep rough and her footfalls almost silent as she made her way into the kitchen, stopping to rest at the door.

"Apple juice?" Sammy looked between Dean and Naomi, mischievous smirk on his face. Dean struggled to stifle his laugh as Naomi told Sammy with just a look that that wasn't the expected response.

"Apple juice pwease?" Sammy smiled and Dean could only guess the size of the puppy dog eyes Naomi was being flashed. "Daddy, Momma's up-cans we go out now?" Sammy chirped, looking hopefully at Dean, who had just turned around, milk, apple juice and cereal in his hands.

"After breakfast, Sammy. Morning Babe." Dean walked over to the table, fighting to keep the smile off of his face when Sammy pouted and Naomi wrapped her arms around him, placing a kiss against his shoulder before slumping down at the breakfast table.

It was only then that Dean got a chance to look at her; her hair was messy, curls wild and untamed on her head, not a trace of make up on her face, Dean's blue shirt contrasting against her lightly tanned skin. Dean wasn't aware he was staring until Naomi was looking right at him, sleep still in her eyes, which were a startling shade of cobalt first thing in the morning.

"What?" She asked, her cheeks tingeing pink slightly as she lowered her gaze.

"You're so fucking beautiful." Dean blurted out, he's not exactly all that romantic, but even he's pretty sure he could have managed that one better.

"You're such a dork. And an Asshat. Seriously, language in front of minors!" Naomi rolled her eyes, but she had a grin plastered across her face and as she pulled him down for a soft kiss.

Yeah, there are some things time doesn't change. It still feels the same way it did when we first met, and damn if that didn't lead to some fun times…wonder if she'd go for it…

That thought, however was pushed out of Dean's mind pretty quickly.

"EW! GWOSS!" Sammy shouted from where he was sitting and it was a matter of seconds before two tiny hands were pushing at Dean's legs trying to get in between Dean and Naomi. "Don't do dat no more, Daddy-you not 'posed to do dat!" Sammy scowled and wrapped his arms around his body, trying to glare at his parents.

"We're only saying good morning, Sammy," Naomi reasoned, turning in her chair and pulling her son onto her lap.

"Dat's wuzn't good mornin'!" Sammy retorted, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Dat was you and Daddy kissin' on each other." Sammy looked from Naomi to Dean and back again. "I don likes it when yous mad and fight loud but I don likes dat kissin' too. Dat's gwoss, and yous not do dat no more."

"We won't fight anymore," Dean told him with a soft smile, and he meant it with all his heart, because fighting with Naomi hurt him more than, well, anything really.

"And…?" Sammy looked at Dean expectantly.

"And I'll try not to kiss on your momma when you're in the same room." Dean replied, ruffling Sammy's hair and reaching over him, picking up the bottles and box of cereal putting them away.

"Uh, Dean…"Naomi's voice trailed off.

"Come on, Mimi, get dressed. We're going out for a decent sit-down breakfast somewhere." In that moment Dean realized that was everything would be alright. "Family Style."

I have my family right here. Sam's gone, for the time being at least, and I won't stop looking for him…but right now I have a wife who loves me and a son who wants nothing more than to go out and toss a ball around with his old man. With me. I may not have been much older than him when my chance at normal was snatched away, but this, this is something else entirely-I'm not letting anyone take this away from me.

"Really?" Naomi and Sammy both had matching expressions, eyes filled with hope and Dean threw his head back on a laugh.

"Yeah, really. My treat." Dean winked at them and with that, Naomi hoisted Sammy into her arms, and made a beeline for the door before stopping at the foot of the stairs and sending Sammy up to wash his hands and brush his teeth.

"Dean," she began as she walked towards him, arms wrapping around his neck and lips crashing against his. "You don't have to-"

Dean shushed her with another kiss as his hands tangled in her hair. "If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have suggested it," he told her as he pulled away, hands coming round to frame her face.

"I love you." Naomi grinned at him, tears shining in her eyes. "Thank you." She placed a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back to look back into his eyes.

"I love you, too. I hate chick flick moments, though, so go get dressed." Dean grinned at the childlike glee in Naomi's eyes as she left the room, taking the stairs two at a time.

I could get used to this.

He looked out the window, watching how the leaves fell and scattered across the grass, covering Sammy's play area, the patio and the grass.

"Daddy!" came an impatient, little yell.

"Yeah?" Dean called upstairs, smile on his face.

"Need yous to come make Momma hurry, pwease! She's bein' a girl and takin' forevers to be weady and I's wants food so we cans go play! Hurry!" Sammy called down the stairs.

"I'll be up in a minute, son!" Dean called as he made sure the salt line was still firmly at the windows and doors and that they were locked before going up the stairs to find Naomi watching Sammy brushing his teeth, with a bundle of clothes in her arms.

"Daddy!" Sammy smiled around his toothbrush. "I's all done, see!" he said hurriedly as he dropped his toothbrush on the counter and grinned widely to show his teeth.

"You did it that fast, huh?" Dean grinned as he wrapped his arms around Naomi, silently relishing in the way she leaned back into him, her head fitting neatly under his chin. He laughed loudly when Sammy nodded eagerly, hopping down from the stool to run over to them, holding his arms above his head.

"Up!" he demanded, sheer look of glee on his face as Naomi acquiesced to his request, dumping her clothes on the floor and scooping him into her arms, before leaning back into Dean again, who wrapped his arms around them both.

Things may have changed through the years, but it's worked for us, and I'm glad. I don't know what I would do if anything happened them. We may not be the way we were, but we're stronger now. Sammy won't have to be like me, I'll make damn sure of it. Learning from other people's mistakes is better than hurting people to make the same mistake all over again.

"Wuv you, Daddy." Sammy grinned at him before turning to Naomi with a sweet smile. "Don' worry, Momma-I wuv you, too."

"Love you, too, Sammy." Naomi and Dean said in unison, smiling when Sammy arched an eyebrow.

"And yous love yous too?" he asked brightly, a familiar wide-dimpled grin sliding across his face when Naomi nodded.

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean smiled. "Yeah, we love each other, too."


Okay, so? What did you think?

;)