FIC TITLE: The Home for Wayward Children
Author- PTBvisiongrrl
Part- 2/? (I promise nothing else, which is why its marked complete, but ideas are a–brewing.)
Date- 7/5/16
Rating – PG-13/T (at last for now….will clearly warn if it changes)
Pairings/Characters- Sam/Dean brother bond; Dean/Castiel romantic relationship
Word Count- 3,242
Genre- Angst, Family
Warnings- Spoilers- AU for end of Season 11. I had already written this before the finale.
Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don't own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don't sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show!
Summary-
At 39, Dean has taken more hits than a NFL quarterback, and his body has begun to feel it. His bones practically grate against each other when he gets up in the morning, and the rain makes him want to ball up into the fetal position until the Tylenol and Jack kick in. But if there isn't hunting, what is there? All there has ever been is hunting things and helping people, the family business. Well, maybe it's time to help other people hunt things and expand the family.
Chapter 2
The hunter caravan making its way across back roads and through ancient motels drew no unusual notice, but Dean kept his eyes open still. All the children had gratefully accepted the offer to stay for a few weeks at the Bunker while figuring out the rest of their lives later. Five kids, one angel, and two hunters required more than the Impala for the trip, however.
No one wanted to leave the dead hunter's vehicles, laden with strange items and illegal weapons, anyway, but it also came down to how many drivers there actually were. Colton had a license—not in his name, but with his picture, so as good as a real one—as did Morgan, although she was not as comfortable driving as Colton was. Petie and Rose's parents' had a large cabbed pick-up truck; the baby's car seat was in the back, and no one wanted to try and put that into another vehicle. Given the distractions of small children, Sam offered to drive it, earning Rose's gratitude and cementing the crush she would no doubt form over the course of the drive. Sam was just too nice and too polite and too smart and altogether too HUNTER not to cause warm feelings in the girl who had just lost her world.
And Sam would be too oblivious to even notice.
Colton decided he would drive himself, in his father's car, and stripped everything supernatural or illegal from his uncle's jeep. There was a decent stack of unused fake credit cards, which Colton turned half of over to Dean in thanks. He would have handed over more, but Dean waved him off. Dean had a feeling that while the other children would settle in, Colton might well take off on his own, and Dean wanted the older teen to be able to take care of himself.
Morgan rode with Cas, who decided to drive her car, and Dean ended up with Jerry strapped into some type of toddler seat in his back seat. The kid reminded him of Sam at that age, all wide eyes and wild hair (no matter what you did to it) and endless questions. Dean found himself turning off Highway to Hell so that he could answer Jerry's endless stream of chatter.
Given the size of kids' bladders and bellies, there were frequent stops the first day of the drive—which was actually only 6 hours of actual driving, given all the stops. When they pulled into the first motel with a pool after dinner at a diner—what an experience that was, and how LONG it took for food to be made for a party of 8! —Dean found himself pretty fucking tired. From the looks of the other adults, they all were. Herding children into the pool for a quick dip—easier than showers, though not nearly as effective—and then settling them all in for the night was all Dean had energy for.
Or so he thought.
Until Cas took his turn in the shower, and came out wrapped in a towel and dripping all over.
Just as Dean leered and started to make a sexual comment, the door between his and Cas's room and the littlest of the self-mobile kids popped open, killing the words before they left Dean's mouth.
Jerry, thumb partially in mouth and night time pull up hanging full, called "'ean?" from the shadowed space between door and door jamb.
Dean kept an audible sigh from escaping, the aches in his bones multiplying as he sat up and answered. "Yeah, kiddo, what do you need?"
"The bafroom is dark."
Dean bit his lip, struggling to find the right response in his memory. "Did you turn the light on?" he settled on.
"M too shorty," Jerry answered, his eyes watering.
Dean got up and met Jerry at the door. "Let's just put the light on and leave it on for the night then, K?"
Jerry bit his lip around his thumb, his toddler-nerves absolutely adorable. "I'm afraid."
Dean carefully got down on his knees and scrunched down to Jerry's height (not an easy feat for the 6' 1" injured hunter, to say the least). "It's okay to be afraid. Would you rather sleep in here with me and Cas?" Dean looked to Cas, hoping the angel wouldn't mind sharing their bed.
Dean shouldn't have worried. Cas's blue eyes were warm and wet at Jerry's words and obvious unhappiness. "There is plenty of room. I promise not to roll over on you in the night, Jerry," Cas solemnly promised.
Jerry nodded. "T'ank you, yes. I wanna stay with yous."
Dean felt his heart melt a little bit more. These kids struck a chord within his heart already, a shared fucked-up-ness to their upbringing that he wanted to try and balance with some stability and normality. Well, as normal as Winchesters could be. "Let's get you a new Pull Up and tucked in, then."
Dean took Jerry to the bathroom, helping him clamor up onto the toilet seat and sit down (potty-training was going to be a priority, Dean immediately decided). The other three children in the room—Sam and Colton were in a third—were out cold, and Dean tried to be as quiet as possible while he searched for another Pull Up. These kids were hunters' kids, though, and Morgan rose up sleepily from her bed with a knife in her hand, aimed at Dean. "What is it?"
Dean had a moment of fear—he knew his level of knife skills at her age, and was glad she woke up enough to ask BEFORE hurling it at him—before answering. "Need a Pull Up for Jerry."
Flopping back down, she put her knife away and gestured vaguely at the pile of assorted bags in the corner. "They're in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles back pack. There's only three left."
Dean cursed in his head. They were going to have to stock up on a bunch of shit he probably had no idea they would need. And probably sooner than later. At the speed they were going, it would be at least another day before they got to the Bunker. "Remind me tomorrow," he tossed over his shoulder as he made his way back to Jerry. Finished before Dean, Jerry had climbed down himself and somehow managed to unwind half the toilet paper role.
"What the fu—," Dean started but caught himself. "Here, little man. Let's put this on and stop wasting toilet paper. Did you even need any?" he asked, looking in the bowl to see. "Nope. Not a square. Hey, buddy- Jerry—," Dean tried to get Jerry's attention back, but Jerry was unwinding MORE of the toilet paper. Dean supposed he should be grateful the kid wasn't eating it…
A thought mentally spoken too soon, apparently.
Scooping the little boy up, Dean helped the tyke wash his hands at the sink one-handed while holding him. Dean didn't forget what Sam had been like at that age, but Dean himself had barely been 6. Dean's priorities and knowledge of how to care for kids was much expanded these days, and an adult-sized body made it a shit-ton easier, for sure.
At least, Dean reflected as he climbed into the king size bed Cas was already passed out in, he hoped so.
S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D… S & C/D…
Cas woke up to five tiny toes trying to dig out his left eye. Grumbling, he reached up and wrapped his large hand around the offending limb to still it, garnering a startled cry from Jerry. Opening his other, less-threatened eye, Cas realized that it had not been any sort of intent on the toddler's part to blind him.
It was Dean's fault. Because Dean was tickling Jerry, turning the toddler bright pink and gasping before pausing to meet's Cas's gaze. "Morning, Cas," Dean smiled.
"Good morning, Dean," Cas released Jerry's leg and sat up, leaning back against the headboard. "Why are you trying to blind me with a toddler?"
Dean chuckled. "Huh, sorry 'bout that. Got a little carried away when I won the tickle war."
"Tickle war?" Cas inquired, raising an eyebrow. Cas had a feeling that this type of exchange was going to become common place back at the Bunker.
"Jerry and I bet on who would win." Dean shrugged, standing up and taking the toddler with him. "I won, so Jerry here is going to take a shower."
Jerry's smiling laughter over the tickling quickly faded into an adorable pout. "I forgot. I don't wanna."
Dean sighed, deeply. "You have to. You stink, little man. I don't know when you bathed last, but that pool did not do the job well enough—and I wouldn't bathe a dog in that tub. So, shower it is. You agreed. You can't go back on a tickle-won bet."
"No' fair," Jerry muttered, squirming some more.
Cas saw that there was more than toddler mulishness going on here. "What's wrong with a shower?"
A knock at the interior door interrupted the discussion. Dean sat back on the bed and slid under the sheet, covering up the boxers he had slept in. "Cas, shirt," Dean whispered urgently.
Cas shrugged. There was nothing wrong with the human form. He was sufficiently covered by bedding so that nothing inappropriate was exposed, but humored Dean by reaching for one of Dean's shirts and covering up.
"Yeah?" Dean waited to call out until Cas was complying.
The door pushed open slightly, and Rose stood in the doorway, dressed for the day. "Sam called to say he was going out to pick up breakfast."
Sam called? Why did he call…
Oh. Yeah. Cas was sharing his bed. Sam wouldn't have wanted to interrupt. Not that much would be going on with kids next door, with thin motel walls, but the thoughtfulness was nice. "How long ago?"
"Just now," Morgan called out from behind Rose.
"Okay. That means he should be back in a half-hour or so. Everyone up and ready?" Dean asked.
""cept Jerry," Morgan appeared, Petie dressed in clean clothes and, given a smear of rice cereal in her hair, already fed.
"I got him," Dean brushed tickling fingers against Jerry's sensitive side and got him to giggle his agreement. "Jerry is going to take a shower, and then get dressed, and then—," Dean paused dramatically, for Jerry's benefit, "eat."
Jerry still looked mournfully towards the bathroom, like a shower was a jail sentence. "I don' wanna' shower," he stated plaintively again.
Dean shook his head. "Non-negotiable."
Rose started to say something, but then stopped herself. Dean noticed. "Fill me in, Rosie. What's the deal with showers?"
Rose pinked up at the diminutive. "He just doesn't like them, the way the water splashes in his eyes. He cries the entire time he's not fighting like a wild cat."
Jerry looked betrayed at his sister's explanation, and Dean nodded. "Well, that's gonna change from now on, Jerry, got it? It's just a shower. Nothing in there to hurt you."
Rose bit her lip. "My dad used to take him into the shower with him. It was the only way Jerry would settle."
Dean was entirely uncomfortable with that idea. He was already an unrelated adult in charge of them, by his own choice. He was not Jerry's parent. It seemed…creepy, if an outsider looked in on this. But Dean had committed to the idea of taking care of these kids, and known that kids weren't easy.
Studying Rose, Dean frowned. "The only way?"
"Only way he didn't scream his fool head off. And if he has to bathe—these tubs are too gross for tubby tub, Jer," Rose caught her little brother's eye. "Can you please, pretty please, just take a shower without causing a scene?"
Jerry folded in on himself, his bright eyes tearing up and leaking. "I don' wanna take da shower, Roses," he whispered.
Dean's turn to fold. "Okay, little man. I'll get in the shower with you. I can't smell you the whole way home."
Rose looked beyond grateful, and Dean just smiled at her. "Kids," was all he said to her with a wink.
Morgan tapped Rose on the shoulder, pulling her attention away, "Let's get packed up while they shower." Morgan shut the suite door, pulling Rose back into their room.
Dean sighed, picked up Jerry, and made for the bathroom. Tears were already pooling on his shoulder and sniffles echoing in his ear. "It will be alright, little man. All it is water, just little bits of it instead of all at once. I'm sure you just had a bad experience once, and its stuck with you." Putting Jerry down on the closed toilet lid, Dean put toothpaste on and then handed the kid a toothbrush. "Brush first."
Jerry took the toothbrush and scrubbed feebly at his teeth in between swallowing back tears. Dean kept an eye on him to make sure Jerry wouldn't slip or fall while he stripped down to his boxer briefs. "I'm getting in there with you, but you are the one getting clean, with no fussing. We don't want any nosy maids or neighbors coming to see what's the squalling about, okay?"
Jerry held the toothbrush up to Dean to rinse, spit and bubbles running down the brush to Jerry's little fist and dripping onto the tiled floor. "I try."
"You ever hear, 'Do or do not, there is no try'?" Dean asked. "Yoda, this little green man, told that to the greatest Jedi ever, Luke Skywalker— "
Jerry's eyes widened. "You like da Star Wars, too?"
Dean smiled big. This kid really was great. "Yup. Sam, too. Cas hasn't seen all of them yet, though. If we can get out of here at a decent time, we can make it home and maybe watch it tonight. Think you can do that for me?" Dean was never above a bribe to Sam to do what he wanted as a kid. Luckily, Sam was easily persuaded most of the time. Apparently he and Jerry had that in common.
"K. I can do that. No try. Jus' do." Jerry screwed up his little face in preparation. "Shower."
Dean nodded, pulling back the shower curtain and playing with the faucets until the temperature felt warm but not hot. Stepping in, he reached to steady Jerry. "Pull Up off, dude, and no peeing on me, got it?"
Jerry wiggled out of the Pull Up, leaving it on the toilet lid, and nodded with a giggle. "I not pee on you, 'ean."
"Thank you," Dean answered, picking up Jerry and holding him directly in the spray, face away. Once Jerry was thoroughly dampened, which he had soldiered through and eventually not relaxed but at least stopped looking like he was in pain, Dean reached for the soap.
"No soap! No soap, 'ean! You not say soap, too!" Jerry wailed, all thoughts of being brave gone.
Dean stepped back out of the spray, still shielding Jerry's eyes. "Soap is part of a shower, Jer."
"No!" Jerry adamantly yelled. "No soap!"
Dean sighed, deep and regretful. Damn it, he thought it had worked this out. "Jedis use soap, Jer. Can you be a Jedi for me, just for a little bit longer?"
"No! Soap hurts!" Jerry kept his eyes screwed up tight and Dean figured out the issue.
"I won't let any soap get into your eyes, Jerry, but you have to stay calm for me to do that. I promise, no soap in your eyes if you follow my directions." Dean shifted so that he held Jerry in his other arm. "Okay?"
Sniffling again, and opening only one eye to study Dean's face for several long minutes, Jerry nodded once. "K."
Fifteen minutes and an increasingly cool shower later, Jerry was clean, wrapped in a towel, and handed off to Cas so that Dean could shower himself. Cas had raised an eyebrow—again—at Dean's soaked boxer briefs, but wisely said nothing, even as he heard Dean strip the snug material off and drop it into a puddle-pile on the floor clear through the closed door.
Dean let the cool water wash over him, as he scrubbed as quickly as he could before the water turned to ice. At least the water pressure wasn't bad. Toweling off thoroughly and tightly wrapping a towel around before gingerly stepping out into the room—he wasn't sure who might be in there, and uncomfortable traipsing about half-naked like usual if there were kids in his room—he sighed in relief at just Cas sitting at the table with bagels for both of them and steaming cups of coffee.
Dean made his way to his duffle and threw on some clothes. "Thanks for getting me breakfast," he mumbled as he brushed a light kiss on Cas's cheek and sat down to eat.
"I feared that if I did not, there would not be any left for you by the time you were done," Cas chuckled, a shy smile on his lips as he studied Dean.
"More than possible. Samsquatch eats less than those little buggers will," Dean chuckled, scarfing down his food. "First stop before the Bunker—groceries."
Cas bit his lip. Dean could read that the angel was nervous. "Are we really doing this?"
Dean stopped chewing. "You and me? Living at the Bunker together?" Dean's heart froze for a second.
Cas smiled widely. "I know we are doing that. I want to do that. I meant…are we really raising five children?"
Dean actually stopped shoving food in and smiled widely. "Yes. We are. I mean, kids at some point with you was the plan, but they need us, now. And it's not like we can just order up kids or make them the old fashioned way, here." Dean winked at Cas, before pulling a serious face. "Unless you really aren't ready for it yet. They can just stay with us until we find them other places, other hunters, to go live with."
Cas shook his head vehemently. "No, I do not want to send them away. I am just…I am an Angel of the Lord, Dean, not a nanny. You are a natural with kids. Look at how you got Jerry to shower! I just don't know what to do with them."
Dean finished his bagel and sipped his coffee. "Just be you. Treat them with respect that they aren't stupid, and answer their questions honestly. Quite frankly, that's just your default setting," Dean sat up straighter and caught Cas's hand in his on the table top, "But don't be afraid have fun and be silly sometimes. Let them know that you are there if they need you, and still there even if they don't. That's all kids really want."
"Is that how you raised Sam?" Cas inquired, honestly interested. Sam and Dean rarely spoke in any detail or at any length about the good parts of their growing up on the road.
"I tried," Dean answered. "But I didn't have some overall plan. I mean, I was barely five when Dad handed him to me and told me to take care of him. But yeah, I guess that I figured it out along the way."
A heavy knock on the outside door and Sam's teasing, "Are you decent?" ended the discussion.