Chapter Four
Oh, man! I was rereading parts of the second installment of this story to find out I had already written that Angel could teleport. Oops...
Dean headed out of the kitchen, leaving Sam to finish the dinner plans. He trooped up the stairs and headed for where he could hear voices. They were coming from Sam's nursery.
Dean stopped at the doorway. "You guys doing okay?"
Mary looked up at him from packing a diaper bag. "Yeah, we're fine. Dinner ready?"
"Almost," Dean told them as Little Dean helped John pack a small bag of Sam's clothes.
"Good," said Mary. "We got us and Dean packed already. We'll be down soon."
"Where are the bags?" Dean asked. "I'll take 'em for ya."
"By the stairs," Mary told him.
Dean nodded as his eyes fell on Sam lying in the crib. His eyes then travelled up to the ceiling, staring in trepidation at it. He swallowed thickly as he thought about what awaited in here just three months from now.
"Are you okay?" asked Mary.
Dean quickly looked at her with a smile. "Oh, yeah. Just, uh…nice nursery."
Mary looked at him strangely. "Thanks." She went back to her packing.
Dean turned and headed back down the hallway, spotting the luggage at the top of the stairs. As he bent to grab one, he glanced over to his right and spotted his old bedroom. Glancing back down the hallway to see if anyone was coming, he let go of the suitcase and stepped slowly inside. He gazed at the Knight Rider bedspread, the toy cars littered on the floor and a couple action figures by the nightstand: Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Dean chuckled as he walked around the room, stopping to reminisce over an object every once in a while. As Dean passed the small desk across from the bed, he stooped a little and picked up a bent-up Slinky from the desktop. He smiled fondly as he remembered how many times he would run up to the top of the stairs just to send the Slinky back down to the bottom again.
Dean put the Slinky back on the desk, heading back towards the bed and spotting something familiar sticking out from under the bed. "Oh, no way…"
He bent over and pulled the book out, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at it with a small smile. It was "The Giving Tree." He had Mom read this story almost every night, and after Mom died, Dean had read this story to Sam until the kid said he was too old for bedtime stories.
Dean flipped the cover open, seeing the untidy "DEAN" written along the top. He looked down at the empty space below it that would one day read: "AND SAMMY." He chuckled a little and closed the book, putting it back in its place.
Dean headed back out to the landing, pausing at the luggage when he heard music coming from the closed door in the opposite wall.
"Playin' my favorite song. An' I could tell it wouldn't be long till he was with me. Yeah, me, singin'—"
Dean stepped over to the bathroom as someone began singing along with Joan Jett above the spray of the shower.
"I love rock 'n roll!" Angel sang with the music. "So put another dime in the jukebox, baby! I love rock 'n roll! So come an' take your time an' dance with me!"
There was a pause as the drums beat for a moment.
"Owww!" Angel let out with the song before the water turned off.
Dean smiled and shook his head fondly as he turned and picked up the luggage, carrying it downstairs and out to the Impala. He unlocked it with the keys he had pulled from the key rack by the front door. After he had loaded everything into the trunk, he headed back inside to see that the Winchesters had come downstairs with Sam's bags.
"Your friend has quite the charismatic personality," said Mary with a head tilt up the stairs.
Dean shrugged. "She gets it from her father."
"Where's that music she's playing coming from?" asked John.
"Ah, she's probably listening to her iPod," Dean mumbled as he headed towards the kitchen.
"What's an I-pod?" asked Mary.
Dean winced in frustration. Man, I got a real problem with watching what time I'm in, don't I?
He turned to face them. "Uh, just a, uh, new experimental music player. Uh…federally issued."
Mary eyed him suspiciously. "Right…"
"Smooth, Dean," said Angel as she headed down the stairs. "Smooth."
John frowned between the two of them. "So, it isn'ta new music thing?" His gaze landed on Angel for confirmation.
Angel glanced at Dean real quick before looking back at John. "That's classified."
Mary frowned at the both of them, starting to get real suspicious.
"Hey, let's check on that dinner!" Dean called suddenly, heading for the kitchen.
"Definitely," said Angel, following her father as they tried to distract Mary from the whole thing.
Of course, their method probably only served to solidify Mary's reservations about their behavior. They both knew Mary was starting to get onto their trail. She knew they weren't feds, so she knew they would have no reason to say something was classified—as far as she knew.
Dean and Angel found Sam stirring a pot of spaghetti and a pot of meat sauce.
"How's it goin, Suzie Homemaker?" smirked Dean as he leaned against the counter with arms folded.
Angel walked over to the table, leaning on the back of a chair.
"Good, considering my help flaked on me about fifteen minutes ago," said Sam with a pointed look at Dean.
Dean shrugged. "You said you had it handled."
"Yeah, long enough to go tell everyone it was almost ready," Sam replied with a false smile. "Then you never came back."
"Well, he's back now, isn't he?" said Mary, her voice hard as steel.
Dean glanced over to see her glaring at him in a "get to work now" way. He quickly looked away. "Yes, ma'am." He turned towards the counter, grimacing at Sam in a "I'm in trouble now" way.
"Just make sure the sauce doesn't burn," Sam told him.
Dean grabbed the spoon and began stirring it as Sam opened the oven to check the garlic bread.
Mary looked down at the stack of plates on the table, picking them up. "You know, if we're gonna be gone for a few days, I don't want the dishes rotting in the sink." She set the plates on the counter and turned toward the pantry by the fridge. "I'll get the paper plates—"
"Uh, you sit," Sam interrupted suddenly, heading her off. "I'll get 'em."
"It's okay," said Mary. "You're cooking, so—"
"But I feel bad, making you leave and everything," said Sam, standing in front of the pantry door. "It's fine."
Mary shrugged with a frown. "Okay…"
Dean frowned at Sam, waving a hand out to say "what the hell?" Sam glanced over to see Mary wasn't looking before opening the pantry door, showing Dean the angel-banishing sigil drawn in blood on the inside of the door. Sam shrugged at him, and Dean nodded and mouthed "nice." Sam quickly pulled some paper plates from the stack on a shelf before closing the door.
Sam set the plates on the table before heading back to the stove. He lowered his voice as he stirred the pasta. "I figure if Anna pops in before we get out of here, we'll be ready."
"Good call," Dean muttered back.
"Alright, we're good," said Sam, turning off the oven and burners.
"Dean, time to eat!" Mary called into the other room, where John sat on the couch with Little Dean and Sam.
Little Dean jumped up as John stood, carrying Baby Sam. Mary lifted Little Dean and put him in a chair as John set Baby Sam into the carrier and put it on an extra chair at the table. Angel put plates all around the table as Dean and Sam got the pasta and garlic bread into bowls. Everyone sat down and dug in.
"Mm," said John after a few bites, "this is good, Sam."
"Home Ec course in college," Sam told them. "My, uh…" he shifted a little with a fond smile, "my girlfriend said she refused to be the sole stay-at-home housewife, so…"
"Dean…" Mary admonished, making him sit back down in his seat from reaching for the bowl of garlic bread. "Not until you finish."
Little Dean pouted. "I want bread…"
"After you eat your spaghetti," Mary told him. She looked up at Sam, Dean and Anna. "I swear he's gonna grow up to have a sweet tooth."
Dean shrugged as he grabbed a piece of garlic bread himself. "Nothing wrong with a sweet tooth. You just gotta know how to work out."
"Exactly," agreed Angel, taking a big bite out of some bread.
Sam looked between the two of them, chuckling.
Mary wiped the smears of marinara sauce from Little Dean's face as John put the silverware in the dishwasher.
"John, can you put Sam's bags in the car?" said Mary.
"Sure," said John, heading for the living room.
Angel helped Sam and Dean put the leftovers in the fridge and the dishes in the sink.
There was a crash in the living room, and Mary, Sam, Dean and Angel rushed into the room to see John lying in the debris of the broken china cabinet. Anna stood in the middle of the room, staring at him.
"Go, go!" Dean told Sam, reaching into his jacket as he charged at Anna.
Sam rushed towards the kitchen as Dean pulled an angel sword out of his jacket. Anna turned and easily deflected the sword. Angel charged forward, raising her hand and causing Anna to go flying into the wall and fall to her knees.
"I wish I could say it's good to see you, Anna," said Dean as Anna climbed back to her feet.
"You, too, Dean," said Anna. She ran forward, throwing Dean across the room.
Angel stepped in front of Little Dean and Baby Sam at the table as Anna turned towards them.
"I'm sorry," said Anna. "But this is the only way."
"Over my dead body," growled Angel.
A flash of white light filled the room, and Anna grimaced as she vanished into the light. Angel looked over her shoulder to see Sam taking his hand away from a burning sigil on the pantry door. Angel then glanced down at her young father to see if he was okay.
"Dean!" Mary exclaimed, rushing over to him and hugging him close. "Are you okay?"
"Mommy!" cried Little Dean, clinging to his mother.
Mary reached one hand over to check on Baby Sam. Seeing that they were fine, she looked over at John in the living room, who stood staring at the place where Anna had disappeared. His gaze slowly moved up to Mary, confused and a little betrayed.
