Supernatural – Different Faith
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Supernatural. I do own Faith. That said; let's move on from this depressing part of the story, shall we?
Author's Note: Don't ask where this came from. I just felt the need to write something after watching the season (and hopefully not series) finale of Supernatural. And Heart of Gold wasn't doing anything for me. Therefor, I created this.
And as a sidenote, Sam and Dean may seem a little out of character here. Let me know what you think.
Summary: (One-Shot) Sam and Dean walk in on the aftermath of an attack by the demon that killed there mother, barely making it out again alive. They flee the town as fast as the car can take them. But they've brought something with them that's going to bring out a side of them they thought was long since lost. Takes place after Nightmare.
The impala roared down the road at a barely legal speed, with its driver struggling to keep it under full control. "You're sure it's this house?" Dean asked his brother without looking at him, not chancing taking his eyes off the road, even for a second.
"Positive." Sam said, rocking in his seat as Dean hurtled around another corner. "Y'know, it may help if we get there in one piece!" He said over the roaring of the car engine and the screeching of the tires.
"Well, I'm sorry if I want to get there before this thing attacks!" Dean shouted back, spinning the wheel and going around another corner. "You may not know this, but I don't much like the idea of someone else losing their mother!"
"I get that-" Sam said, and whatever else he'd been going to say was cut off as Dean slammed the brakes and both of them were thrown forward to the limits of their seat belts, and then snapped back against their seats as the car spun semi-out of control in front of the house Sam had seen in his vision. Neither of them bothered to wonder what Sam had been about to say as the car came to a shaky stop in front of the house next door to their target. They both unbuckled their seat belts and leapt out their respective doors, rushing around to the back of the car. Dean jammed the key into the trunk lock, turned it and lifted door open.
They grabbed every weapon they thought might have the slightest affect on the demon (which was pretty much any weapon they could get their hands on), tucked them into various pockets of their jackets, and then turned toward the house.
"Sam." Dean pointed toward the top window on the far left. There was a faint orange glow flickering out into the early evening night. Before Dean could so much as think, Sam rushed past him. "Sam! Sam, wait. Wait, you idiot!" Dean took off at a run after his brother, who had already kicked down the front door. "Sam, the thing's already gone!" He shouted after his brother, but he could have been shouting at the unhinged door for all the affect it had on Sam. The younger Winchester ran up the stairs two at a time. With a cry of frustration, Dean rushed up after him.
Sam burst into the room they'd seen the light coming from, and sure enough the whole room seemed to be ablaze. He looked around desperately, hopelessly, for the demon, though he knew it had long since gone.
"Sam." Dean came up behind him. Whatever Dean had been about to say, however, was lost to Sam as he heard something over the roar of the flames. From somewhere in the blazing flames, a baby's cry reached Sam's ears. Before he knew what he was doing, he had plunged into the room, feeling the lick of the flames and the sudden decrease in oxygen almost instantly. If he'd had time, he'd have been thankful for the thickness of his jeans and jacket. As it was…
He thought he heard Dean shouting at him, but he was moving too fast away from his brother to hear. He thrust his hands down as he reached what he hoped was the crib, and found to his surprise and relief that he hadn't just ran into what felt like the flames of hell for no reason. He reached down and lifted the crying infant from the crib, and suddenly realizing his lungs were screaming out for more then the heated nothing he was inhaling.
Dean was suddenly at his side, which he was thankful for, because he suddenly realized just how badly he needed oxygen. Dean put an arm around him and hastily guided him back out of the burning room, coughing and spluttering with the much more distressed baby in his arms. It was actually a miracle the baby was alive at all, considering the heat and how little oxygen was left in the room.
"Later on I'm going to tell you what an idiot you just were." Dean said as he helped Sam out of the room. Sam took in deep, lung-filling breaths of air. Unfortunately, Dean didn't really stop to give him a chance to take real breaths; he remembered something Sam didn't, and he didn't want to be anywhere near that room when it happened.
So he half dragged his brother down the stairs while he coughed and spluttered and gasped for breath. They ran through the opening that had once been a door, and then separated, Dean hoping Sam was with him enough to go straight around to the car door.
Thankfully, he was. The younger Winchester was already fumbling one handedly at the door handle, then he was pulling the door opened and sliding in onto the seat, barely having enough time to pull on his seat belt before Dean had turned the key in the ignition and sped away from the house. Behind them, the window of the room was blown out as the inside of the room exploded in a blast of heat and fire.
Dean's whole body shook with a mixture of fear and exhilaration as they sped away. He didn't stop driving, didn't pay attention to anything but the road, until they were well away from that town. Only when he finally slowed down to a safer speed and the town they'd just been in was no longer in the rearview and hadn't been for hours did he finally decide they were safe, and glanced over at his brother.
And only then did he realize what Sam had in his arms.
"Dean, road!" Sam shouted Dean turned his attention back to the road and swerved just in time to miss some sort of large animal. With a muttered curse, he turned his attention back to his brother, while keeping one eye on the road.
"Sam, why is there a baby in your arms?" Dean asked, not really sure he wanted the answer to that question. Sam looked down, and Dean realize it was quite possible his brother had forgotten. Then Sam smiled down at the infant, and Dean knew he'd just been enjoying the quiet.
"I saved her." Sam said, looking over and smiling at his brother. "The demon didn't get her."
"Yeah… but why didn't you tell me you still had her?" Dean asked. Sam's mouth fell open.
"Are you seriously saying you didn't see her… at all… after we got out of the house?" He asked.
"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, there was a demon in that house and I was kind of in a hurry to get away from it." Dean said. He glanced over at the baby in his brothers arms again. "Er… what are we gonna do about it?" He asked. Sam gave his brother a shocked look.
"Her, Dean, her." He corrected, gazing down at the sleeping baby. "She's a girl." Dean kept his eyes on the road.
"Whatever. What are we going to do about her?" He asked.
"You're talking like she's a broken weapon." Sam said, and Dean caught a barely contained shock in his voice. "We… we'll figure something out." He said, holding the girl lovingly to his chest. Dean held back a smile, for a minute thinking how good a father Sam would've made. If he hadn't come and ripped him out of his normal life. He frowned, sighing. "Let's just find a motel, and we'll deal with this in the morning, 'kay?" As much as Dean wanted to pull a U-turn and go all the way back to where the girl's family was (surely her mother hadn't been the only family), he had to admit, he was getting tired. Which was strange, because normally he could drive for twelve hours straight if he needed to, if not more. He'd only been driving for about three, and he felt like he'd been going non-stop for a week.
"Okay…" He said after a minute, thankful that they had recently come into another town. It didn't take them long to find a motel, pay for the room, and settle in.
"I can't believe that guy thought we were gay." Dean said as he pushed the door and gazed into the room. "Are gay men even allowed to have children?" He asked, looking around the room.
"Dunno," Sam said absently, walking into the room and looking around. "Where is she going to sleep?" He asked, seeing only two single beds with a bedside table in between them. Dean glanced around the room for a second, and then walked to the bedside table, pulled out bottom drawer, and emptied it of it's contents, before sliding it back in a little ways.
"Give her here." Dean said. Sam, however, seemed to be unsure how much he could trust Dean with the baby, and place her in the drawer himself. Dean stood back, watching as his younger brother kissed the baby lightly on the head, shaking his head slightly. Once again reminded of what a good father Sam could've been.
"Dean, would you do me a favor and go out and get a carton of milk?" Sam said. Dean gaped at his brother.
"I'm sorry, what?" He asked.
"Chances are, she's going to get hungry sometime," Sam said, "Babies need to eat, just like everyone else."
"Yeah, no shit." Dean said, and Sam's response was a warning look. Dean returned it with a confused one.
"Don't cuss in front of the baby." Sam said, and Dean would've laughed if he hadn't seen the seriousness in his brother's eyes.
"Okay, this is me going to get milk." Dean said, turning around and snatching his car keys back up off the table. "Anything else for the expectant father?" Dean asked. Sam gave a quiet laugh.
"Just get the milk, Dean." He said, sitting on one of the beds and watching protectively over the baby. Dean cracked a smile as he walked out of the motel room.
It took him about five minutes to find a store still open at nine o'clock at night. And they were just starting to close up. Thankfully, he got there on time, and got a large carton of milk. That was when he realized that they had no way of giving the baby the milk. With a groan, he went in search of a supermarket of some sort that would sell baby bottles.
But luck, for once, seemed to be on his side, and he found one quite quickly, and hastily paid for the bottle and then rushed back out to his car, not really sure why he was in such a hurry.
He returned to the motel room to find his brother resting peacefully on the bed with his legs hanging off; Dean guessed Sam had probably fallen asleep and just fallen side ways, not even aware he had fallen asleep. In front of the younger Winchester, the baby continued to sleep in her make-shift bed.
He shook his head, staring down at the sleeping infant. Something close to heartache hit him; she was so blissfully unaware of what was happening. He hoped that she would stay that way, unaware of the things that were out there. With a small sigh, he put the milk in the small fridge, set the baby bottle in plain sight on the kitchen bench. With that done, he turned his attention to Sam, lifting his brothers legs up onto the bed (groaning a little with effort; what had Sam been eating lately that was going straight to his legs?), stripped down to his boxer shorts, and then climbed into his own bed, resting his head against the pillows and falling asleep almost instantly.
Sam was woken at some ungodly hour in the morning to the desperate cries of hunger the baby was emitting. He opened his eyes, thankful that for once, it hadn't been a nightmare that woke him up, and rolled onto his side, sliding his legs off the bed and looking down at the crying baby. He took a second to look at his brother, and thought he heard the words 'Your turn Dad'. He smiled, before reaching down and lifting the baby from her drawer-bed.
"Shh, shh, it's okay," he whispered softly, rocking her gently. If anything, she cried harder. "Okay, you don't like being rocked." He guessed. He walked over to the small kitchen part of the room and set about warming the milk for the baby, doing everything one-handed as he tried to calm the infant's seemingly endless cries.
Finally, he got it done, and held the bottle to her, not really sure if he was doing it right. But she seemed to get the idea, and quickly closed her tiny mouth around the tip of the bottle and began sucking the warm milk out through the tiny hole. Sam smiled as he sat back down on his bed and watched the baby contentedly suck on the bottle, holding her in one arm and the bottle with his other hand. When she seemed to have had enough, he took the bottle away and set it on the bedside table, and then turned his attention back to the baby, who was now staring up at him, curiosity crossing her small face.
Why would anyone want to hurt you?" He wondered, holding her gently as she gave a tiny yawn and closed her eyes. Within seconds, her breathing had relaxed into the slow patterns of sleep. Slowly and gentling, he set her back down in the drawer, and then climbed back into the bed.
"Sam… your little friend won't shut up." Dean's voice broke through Sam's dreams of himself and Jess and the more then small family he had once wished for. He looked down and saw that the baby was crying again, and hoped to god she hadn't been crying for too long.
Across from him, he saw Dean with a pillow held over his ears, and shook his head in a mixture of amusement and disgust. Amusement because of how the baby was affecting Dean and disgust that his brother had done nothing to help her.
The younger brother got slowly to his feet and lifted the baby from the drawer for the third time since falling asleep the night before, grabbed the empty baby bottle, and walked tiredly over to kitchen and heating more milk.
"Not as easy as it looks, huh?" Dean said with a cocky grin, sitting up. Sam looked over his brother, stifling a yawn as the baby continued to cry.
"You talk like you know from experience?" He said, filling a saucepan with milk and turning the stove on.
"Maybe you've forgotten who had to feed and change and bathe you while Dad was out drinking?" Dean said.
"Ew, you bathed me?" Sam said, but he smiled, though he couldn't remember much from those first couple of years.
"Among other things," Dean said, "Dad wasn't home much those days, who else was going to do it?"
"Dad wasn't home much at all for the first twelve years of my life; I only started seeing him more after that because he started taking me on hunts." Sam said.
"You know, I didn't start this conversation to start picking on Dad." Dean said, his voice going a little cold. Sam frowned.
"Right, sorry," He stifled another yawn, and Dean suppressed a laugh.
"Well, I knew a girl would keep you up all night one day," He said. "Granted, I expected her to be older, and to be doing it in a different way."
"Dean, not-"
"-in front of the baby, yeah, okay." Dean said, shaking his head and getting to his feet. He wrinkled his nose suddenly. "Sam, please tell me you forgot to flush the toilet." He said. Sam's eyes widened as the smell also reached his nostrils, and he glanced down at the screaming baby, and realized it wasn't hunger that was making her cry.
"Oh…" He said. He looked helplessly over at Dean, who scoffed.
"Has Daddy Winchester lost his nerve?" He asked. Sam grimaced, and glanced down at the baby.
"I don't know how to do it." He said. Dean rolled his eyes, but after seeing the pleading look on his brother's face, relented and walked over.
"Okay, first we're gonna have to get her out of those blankets. She's probably getting hot in there anyway…" And with that began the long, disturbing process of cleaning up the mess the baby girl had made in her diaper. It was only Sam had finished cleaning that he realized something.
"We have no spare clothes, no diapers, or anything." He said. Dean glanced around the kitchen for a minute, then changed his mind and walked over to his bed, the stripping the pillow case off of one of his pillows. He came back over, folded it a few times, and low and behold, they had a make-shift daiper. Sam smiled at his brother's work.
"She needs a name." Sam said, and Dean froze on his way to the bathroom. Sam looked up. "What? We can't keep calling her 'her' or 'she'." He said. Dean turned around slowly.
"No, Sam, we are not naming her; when you name something, you get attached to it, that's how the whole Fergus fiasco started, and we are not going through that again," Sam winced at the memory of the pet mouse he had tried to keep when he was about fourteen. "Especially not with a baby." Dean added. Sam looked longingly down at the baby, who was lying flat on her back on the table. He gently scooped her up in his arms, and turned to Dean, who sighed. "What's the name?" He asked, knowing his brother had already come up with a name for her.
"Faith." Sam whispered, bouncing the baby up and down in his arms. She giggled and cooed, clapping her tiny hands. Dean rolled his eyes, turning away. "Oh, come on, you don't think she's the least bit cute?" Sam called after his brother's retreating back as dean disappeared into the bathroom.
"Not the least bit," Dean called back over the sound of the shower starting. "Babies cry, and whine, and-" His voice was cut off for a second as he gave an involuntary shudder as he stepped under the hot water. "-and make huge messes." He finished as his body adjusted to the water temperature. Sam laughed, and the newly named Faith seemed to take that as an invitation to giggle a bit more, clapping her hands up at him again.
When Dean came back out of the shower, his hair still damp, he saw his kneeling in front of the bed with Faith laying down in front of him, her head poking up to look at him every few seconds, followed by a rush of childish giggles. Some of them, much to Dean's surprise, seem to be coming from Sam.
"We can't keep her, you know." The giggles stopped almost immediately for both of them, and Sam looked over his shoulder. The look on his face made Dean feel like he'd just canceled Christmas. "Oh, come on, Sam, you know what this life is like, what it does to a person. How could you even think of raising a baby in a life like this?" He asked.
"We were." Sam said, turning back to the baby, who seemed to understand that her friend was sad about something, and was looking up at him with a look so innocent and caring Sam couldn't help but smile. His smile faded with what Dean said next.
"Could you really raise her like we were?" The older Winchester asked. "Teach her to hunt like us, to be like us?" He asked. Sam frowned, knowing that as much as he wanted to believe he could to keep the baby with him, he knew that it wasn't true.
"We could work something out…" He said, and Dean caught the near-desperation in his voice, and knew right away he should've followed his instincts last night and turned around and gone straight back to Faith's home, where they could've given her to a relative. Sam's paternal instincts had locked onto Faith like a magnet to a paperclip.
"Well…" Dean sighed. "Yeah, maybe we could work something out." Sam looked around, a hopeful look on his face at those words. God, he was going soft. "Well, whether we give her up or not," Dean said, "She's with us for now, and right now we have nothing but pillow cases and a baby bottle." He walked over to grab the car keys.
"No, I'll go." Dean jerked his head around in shock. "Well, you'd probably get everything wrong." Sam said, snatching the keys up off the table. Dean's eyes darted from his brother to the baby lying contentedly on the bed.
"No, wait, Sam, you cannot seriously be considering leaving me with… with her?" Dean asked. Sam's face took on an amused smile.
"Of course not." He said. He put hand on his brother's shoulder, and almost fell over in a fit of laughter at his brother's sigh of relief. "I'm done considering." And with that, he gave his brother a light shove backwards, and was out the door before Dean had a chance to steady himself and then make sense of what Sam had meant.
"Hey, no, wait, I can't-" He gave a small growl of frustration, knowing his protests were falling on deaf ears. He closed the door, and turned back around, seeing Faith staring at him. "What are you looking at, half-pint?" He asked. Faith giggled and clapped her hands, and Dean couldn't help but feel his frustration melt away. He gave himself a shake, turning away from the baby. "Okay, here's the deal: You be nice and quiet and… clean. And I'll be nice and… ah… not watch something too scary on TV." He said, eying the remote.
He turned back to look at Faith, who just stared up at him in wide-eyed innocence. "Okay, maybe you're a little cute." Dean relented, kneeling down at the end of the bed and resting his head on his hands. Faith looked over at him, smiling at him in curiosity. He reached over and gently stroked the girl's short locks of dark hair, unable to stop himself from getting sucked in by the baby's innocence and beauty. She reached up with her tiny hands and closed then around two of his fingers. He smiled as she pulled playfully at his fingers, remembering when Sam had been this small, and he'd done much the same thing for him. Except his hands had been a great deal smaller back then.
And then Faith was suddenly crying again. Confused, Dean reached over with both arms and lifted her off the bed, assuming she must be hungry. He walked over to the already warm milk and poured it into the baby bottle. But whatever was bothering her, it wasn't hunger, because she refused to start sucking on the bottle. Now even more confused (and wondering if he'd done something to upset her), Dean set the bottle down on the bench, and suddenly felt a chill go up his spine.
"Sam, that'd better be you watching me." He spun around, holding Faith to protectively to his chest. Okay, so maybe Sam wasn't the only one feeling fatherly around her. He just felt it in a different way.
He looked around the room, his breathing steady but his heart going pounding away like he'd just run a marathon. He moved carefully across the room, trying to look in every direction at once to make sure nothing snuck up on him. He reached the duffel bag he had brought in with him the night before and pulled it open one-handed, pulling out a salt gun. Holding Faith close to his chest with one arm, he held the gun up, ready to fire if anything out of the ordinary moved towards him.
He saw something out of the corner of his eyes, and turned the gun, pulling the trigger. A chunk of rock-salt burst from the barrel of the gun and smashed into the wall as the creature vanished. Without another thought, Dean bolted for the door, hoping whatever it was was deterred enough by the rock salt for him to get to the door.
Unfortunately, it didn't. Just before he reached the door, Faith was ripped from hisprotective hold and he was hurled across the room and pinned to the wall, while Faith landed softly on the floor, almost as if whatever was attacking them had broken her fall.
Dean struggled against the force that held him pinned against the wall. Didn't mean he got anywhere though; whatever was doing this had no intention of letting him go.
He could hear Faith's helpless cries of fear, and it tore his heart to pieces to being able to help her. That's when he saw it. A tall, shadow-like figure, wearing a long black trench coat with the collar turned up. Dean redoubled his efforts at breaking free, because somewhere, locked away in his memories, he had the vaguest recollection of this demon. And something in his gut told him it was bad news. More so then most demons.
"You… get away from her!" Dean shouted at the demon. It hissed, and turned slowly to look at him. His eyes widened as he stared at the scarred face, and sickly yellow eyes. Dean suddenly found himself wishing he had his brother's powers. At least with telekinesis he'd have been able to protect Faith.
The demon hissed at Dean, before turning its back to him. His eyes widened as he felt himself being lifted off the ground, pressed flat against the wall, and he remembered why he felt so fearful of this demon.
He heard someone turn the door knob. "Dean, I think I forgot the-" Sam started, and then realized something. "Dean, why's the door locked?"
"Sammy, get…" He glanced down at the demon from where he now hung, almost completely flat against the ceiling. "Get in here and save Faith!" He shouted. That was all the encouragement Sam needed. With a well aimed kick, the motel door was thrown off its hinges. The demon looked up at Sam as he burst into the room.
Sam froze, its yellow gaze locking with his. Dean felt something near his abdomen, like someone was sticking their finger into his gut. He grunted in pain, and that broke Sam's staring contest with the demon. Without even a glance, Sam was thrown backwards against the wall as Dean had been. Dean gasped in shock and pain as he felt something puncture the tender skin of his stomach.
"Dean!" Sam cried, seeing the blood dripping from his brother's stomach. He looked at the demon which was reaching out to a screaming Faith. "Stop it!" He shouted at it. He felt something like an electric jolt pass through his body, and the demon shuddered, taking a step back. Not exactly what Sam had been going for, but it was enough to break's its concentration. Dean crashed to the floor, thankfully before the hole in his abdomen became too large, and Sam was released from whatever had held him against the wall. Sam raced forward as the demon tried to recover from Sam's attempt at pushing it away from the baby. He scooped up Faith, and waited a split second to make sure Dean was okay to move, before bolting for the door, with Dean staggering after him, clutching his stomach, trying to slow the blood flowing from it.
"You okay?" Sam asked as he ran. Dean grunted in response, and Sam slowed just a bit. Faith's crying had lessened to quiet sobbing, and Sam held her close to his chest until they were all the way out onto the crowded street. He desperately hoped the demon wouldn't attack while there were other people around.
"Sam…" Dean gasped. Sam had just enough time to turn around before Dean collapsed to the ground at his feet.
Dean woke with a start, sitting bolt upright, and then winced at the pain he felt shooting through his abdomen. Sam was by his side in an instant as he fell back onto the bed and gave another wince as he felt more pain.
Looking around, he saw he was in a hospital bed, with the curtains pulled around it for privacy. He glanced over to his right and saw Sam fast asleep in a chair beside the bed. He shook his head in mock disgust. "Sleeping on the job, Sammy?" He said. Sam jerked awake, looking wildly around for the source of the disturbance. "Sammy, over here." Sam stopped his panicked search and looked over at Dean, and his face filled with relief.
"You're awake." He said.
"Well I'm sure as hell not talking in my sleep." Dean said. He smiled, and then noticed something. "Where's Faith?" He asked. Sam suddenly had a sad look in his eyes, and sighed, sitting back down in the chair.
"I… uh… I told the cops we found her in the room…" He said. "I told them someone was trying to kill her, and that's how you got stabbed, when we tried to save her." Dean looked at his brother for a long minute, trying to get an idea of how the younger Winchester was feeling. But Sam's face had become an emotionless mask the instant he'd told Dean what he'd done. Something Dean didn't think he was capable of.
Some hours later, when Dean was finally allowed to get up and walk around a bit, they found themselves passed the area where Faith was being checked for any sign of injury. Sam's mask was still up, but Dean could see that it had suddenly become a whole lot more difficult. Somewhere, deep down amongst that mess of emotions, Dean was sure Sam had loved the baby, had actually hoped he could…
Dean shook his head. What's done was done, and no sense thinking about what was never going to be.
"You did the right thing." He said, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder as they watch the baby sleep. He turned away after a minute, because if he didn't he was afraid he was going to lose it. A slightly choked up voice, he continued. "There's no room for faith in our line of work." He finished, walking away and leaving Sam to stare through the window at Faith.
He knew Dean meant faith as in belief, hope, trust, and all those other things that they seemed to have lost over the years. But it didn't what he meant; what he said was true, in more ways then one.
It didn't mean he had to like it though.
A/N: So, what did y'all think of this here one-shot? It turned out to be a lot longer then I first expected (but then again, I wasn't originally going to do the beginning, I was going to start at the motel with a small explanation as to what had happened), but then, a lot of things seem to be doing that to me lately. Anyay, please review, it'd be greatly appreciated.