Chapter Ten

Dean drives as much as possible, and sleeps in the Impala at rest stops. He keeps waiting for some sign that he recently carried a baby in his body. But the marks are gone and the baby is gone and there's just Dean, speeding down the highway at 90 miles per hour waiting for some sort of revelation.

He turns his phone off during the day, and doesn't turn it back on until he's ready to go to sleep at night. He's up to seven voice mails, but he can't listen past the first few seconds.

Hey, are you lost? The nurse said you left for -

Dean, where are you?

This isn't funny -

Your stuff is gone - where's the car?

Dean, I need to know if this is -

You have a son! You can't -

Call me, Dean. Please don't -

The text messages aren't any different, except one that includes a photo. He sees the little icon telling him there's a picture, and he knows that it's going to be of his son. He can't look at the baby.

He doesn't even know why he's running, but whenever he thinks about turning around and going back to see Castiel and the baby, his stomach knots and his heart hurts and he can't breathe.

He goes to Vegas. It's late in the evening when he arrives. Once again, he checks in under the name Morrison. While he pays for the room, he asks, "Hey, is Gemma in?"

The girl smiles up at him from the computer. "You nearly missed her; I think she's in the bar."

Taking his key card, he winks. "Thanks." He stuffs the card into his pocket and walks over. He expects to find her tending bar, but instead she's sitting nursing a martini. The bar isn't busy, so he slides into the seat next to her. "Hi."

"Oh, seriously? I thought we have an agreement. You know - never again?"

He clears his throat. "This isn't a business call. I never said thank you. You know, for fixing it."

"Your brother did." She downs the rest of her martini and motions to the bartender, who starts making another. "What do you want, Morrison?"

"I was pregnant."

She leans one elbow on the bar and gapes at him. "Are you fucking serious?"

"One hundred percent."

"I apparently did too good a job. Just another reason I choose not to use what I've got, I might add." The bartender drops off her martini; she orders Dean a scotch. "So, you were..." Her amusement abates. "I didn't do that."

"I know - I'm well aware who did."

She snorts through a laugh, which grows into a muted series of giggles that make Dean smile. Okay, it's funny. Objectively, it's sort of hilarious. "Look, I'm sorry. I am. What happened?"

The scotch arrives, and Dean sips it slowly. After going dry for so long, it's bitter on his tongue. "I have a... Oh, fuck it, his father was able to put a uterus in there. Temporarily." It hurts to say aloud, when he's reminded that the whole thing was temporary and the whole thing failed painfully. If Inias hadn't answered Castiel's call, if the ambulance had taken too long - one or both of them could be dead.

"That's... It was the scruffy dude, wasn't it? I thought I got a weird vibe off him." She sips her martini. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."

Dean orders another scotch. "Oh, it worked out. He's in a NICU in Seattle right now. I was pregnant for almost... eight months."

The bartender scoffs as he sets the scotch on the b ar. "You mean your girlfriend, man; don't be one of those guys."

"Sure," Dean says. The bartender shrugs and walks away. Gemma stares at him while idly circling the rim of her drink with one finger. "What?"

"You have a premature baby in Seattle."

"Yes."

"That's... Wow. I thought I had problems. What the fuck are you doing here, Morrison?"

Another scotch down the hatch, and Dean shrugs. "I don't know. I was going to see my son, and instead I ran. Now I'm here."

"When you should be there."

He nods. "When I should be there."

After twelve hours of sleep in a real bed, Dean leaves Vegas.

He wants to stop by Cicero to check on Lisa and Ben - he always wants to see if Lisa and Ben are okay - but he doesn't want to risk it. She only remembers him as the man who hit her with his car.

Aimless, exhausted, and alone, Dean goes home. He hits Sioux Falls in the early morning. He has two new voice messages. Sam is beginning to sound more resigned, Castiel more angry.

I told you this would happen -

This is beyond -

Instead of going home, Dean pulls into She had been invaluable in helping them claim ownership of the yard, and a decent friend at that. He could use a friend who isn't going to throw this baby thing back at him.

She's standing at another officer's desk when he enters. They stare at each other for a minute, then she crosses the room. He grins and opens his mouth to say hello. Before he can get a word out, she slaps him. "What the hell, Jody?"

"Where have you been?" When he doesn't answer, she scoffs. "What, did you think your brother didn't call me the second you went missing? What are you thinking, Dean?"

"What do you know?" He looks around to the other officers in the room, each one acting like they're not watching the display.

Jody rolls her eyes and pulls him back to her office. She sits him forcibly at the spare chair and closes the door. "You're going to call your brother, right now. You have a son, you can't just run off like this."

"I have a son," he says, trying to convey all his misery and indecision in that one sentence. He wants his mother. More than at any other time in his life, he wants his mother to hold his hand and tell him that it's all going to be okay. Instead he has Jody Mills yelling at him about his magic baby. "I haven't even - I don't know - I - " His breath comes in short, hard gasps and he can't stop. He's exhausted and he's shaking and he can't even -

Jody leans down and hugs him. She squeezes him and rubs circles in his back. "It's going to be okay, calm down." Eventually he does; he gains control of his breathing.

When she lets him go, she sits at her desk and leans down to a low drawer. She tosses him a flask. "Drink. You'll feel calmer."

"I think I'll pass, thanks." He sets the flask on the desk. "Jody, what am I doing?"

"If I have to guess, I would say panicking. Why did you run, Dean?"

Dean stares down at his hands. He feels sheepish and young. He's older now than his father was when he was born. His father would be ashamed to see him run like this. "It's not like - there's nothing to connect me to him."

"What?"

"Look." Dean hikes up his clothing to reveal his stomach. It looks just like it did before he was a woman, before he was pregnant - like all that time and all that experience hasn't touched him at all.

"Thanks for the show, but I don't see - "

"I'm not - It's bullshit, okay?" He pushes his shirt down and hunches further down in his chair. "I'm not his mother, but I'm not really his father either. Nothing of me contributed to him. The eggs sure as fuck weren't mine, and the uterus was always sort of imaginary. I don't even have the scar to say, 'Hey, look what I did.'"

Jody takes a long sip from the flask before standing and untucking her uniform shirt, pulling it up over her stomach. She has a short, puckered scar running lengthwise down her abdomen, gone pink and shiny with age. Stretch marks, equally faded, run diagonally toward her belly button; her stomach is soft, almost wrinkled from an ordeal long gone. When she speaks, her voice is gentle but flat, so devoid of emotion that Dean is certain she's burying it all. "Hey, look what I did."

She tucks her shirt in as she speaks. "Dean, I'm not going to pretend I know a lot about this, but you didn't change. And even if she magicked your genes totally wrong, who cares? Are you going to sit here and tell me you'd love that kid any less?"

Family doesn't end with blood, after all. Dean pulls his phone from his pocket, navigating to his text messages. He still hasn't looked at the photo; he taps it and immediately sets it on the desk. "All I can think of when I think about him, is how awful it was. I don't want to hold my kid, and just remember how much it hurt."

"You will," she says. "You'll look at this little stranger who hurt you so carelessly, and you will learn to love him. One day it'll be a distant memory. An ache, a nightmare - but it'll be nothing compared to what you got for all that trouble."

"What if I just suck at parenting?"

"We all suck at it," she says with a short laugh. "The key is to surround yourself with enough people to get you through the hard times." She leans forward and picks up the phone. She smiles, wide and maybe just a little misty eyed. "He's lovely, Dean. And he's most certainly your son." She holds the phone out.

Dean shakes his head. "I want to see him in person. I just - I've really wanted to see him."

"Then what are you doing here?" She closes the photo for him and motions for him to leave. He sends off a single text message on his way out to the car.

I'm on my way.

Dean takes a plane and hates every second it. He had weighed the options: a plane ride that would get him there in a matter of hours, or a two day car ride. No contest. At least he got a power nap on the ride, removing the worst part of taking an airplane and getting just a little bit of rest in.

He takes a cab from the airport to the hospital, telling himself all the way I can do this. He had marched into about a hundred different more terrifying situations than a NICU.

He sends Castiel another text message, because he doesn't trust his voice if he calls. I'm down the street.

Castiel decks him as a greeting; Dean actually stumbles and hits the pavement, his shirt sleeves wet. That's definitely a split lip - way to meet the parents, kid. Castiel glares down at him, wearing that stupid overcoat like a kid might wear a security blanket. Dean chuckles, wiping his lip on his cuff. "You and Jody should meet. You'd like each other."

"Are you - " Castiel closes his eyes and clenches his fists a couple times. "Do you - " He shakes his head and turns his back to Dean. When he speaks, he sounds no more composed. "You promised."

"I didn't actually use the words, 'I promise'," Dean says, even though that's not really better and humor clearly isn't the right way to fix this. So he hugs Castiel - wraps his arms around Castiel's shoulders and pulls him close. The proximity allows him to speak softly, to avoid attracting any more attention than they already have. "I'm sorry, okay? I panicked."

"When?"

"I saw you and Sam in the nursery." Dean lets him go, and they retreat to a nearby bench. Side by side, their knees touch just a little bit. It's a small comfort. "Any chance you have a cigarette?"

Castiel shakes his head. "The residue is bad for the baby."

"Huh. This has been a rough week for you in more ways than one."

Castiel's expression hardens, and he leans with his elbows on his knees. "I'm not amused."

"I know." Dean takes a deep breath, and just says it. Like pulling off a bandage. He reaches for Castiel's hand, and is relieved when Castiel doesn't pull away. "He scares the shit out of me. I would rather face a whole nest of vampires. At least I know how to handle vampires."

Castiel grips Dean's hand tighter. Dean has a flash of panic, where he remembers the bleeding and the flashing overhead lights, but it passes. "Do you think I'm not scared? He's just - he's so small, and foreign to me. Angels don't have infants in the way humans do; I have no guide for this."

"I'm sorry."

"You've said that. And I'll forgive you, soon enough. Because human love ignores all logic."

Dean can accept that; soon enough is more hopeful than never and certainly more than he deserves. "What's he like now?"

"Stronger. And..." Castiel tilts his head up to look at the stars. "Everyone says that he looks just like me. I don't see it. I hope he looks like you, because he can never resemble me. Perhaps this body is mine, but it does not reflect me."

"You never - "

"It does not change that I love him. Completely, and utterly, because we made him. You and I made a person, Dean. A brand new person who exists only because of us."

When he says it like that, Dean can almost forget how horrible it was to get to get the kid here in the first place. He takes a steadying breath. "You're right. Can I go meet our son now?"

They walk side-by-side, and stand close in the elevator, close enough that Dean wraps an arm around Castiel's waist and pulls him into a half-hug - a quick embrace before the doors open.

Castiel walks quickly as he leads Dean down the hall, as though he's afraid Dean will run again if he has too much time to think. Maybe he's right to.

Everything is sterile and white, though inside the nursery itself he can see cutesy pastel decorations on the wall. Castiel flashes some wristband and signs them in. A nurse leads them over to a large plastic box.

Dean looks down at his son - his tiny, dark-haired son. His eyes are shut tight and his fists are balled. He has a little blue cap on, and there's a small tube running up into his nose. He doesn't seem real at all, could be a doll if not for the slow rise and fall of his chest. The little card on the box reads, Baby Winchester.

"How is he?" Dean says, his voice light as he touches the side of the cot.

"Healthy," the nurse says. If she's at all unsure of why Dean is asking, she doesn't show it. "He's having trouble regulating his temperature, but the feeding tube is temporary. He'll be ready for a bottle soon enough. In terms of being premature, he's going remarkably well."

"Thank you," Castiel says softly. "You've taken remarkable care of him."

"We take remarkable care of all our babies," she says with a smile. She pats Castiel's shoulder before returning to her desk.

Dean's heart does something funny when he sees the way Castiel stares down at their son. A creature who has seen eons of time looks at their child as though he's the most amazing thing ever created.

"Let's get a place."

Castiel looks up. "We already live together."

"I mean just us. I don't care if we do it here or do it in Sioux Falls, but together. No roommates throwing parties or having threesomes on the living room couch."

Castiel smiles. It's like the passing a particularly heavy and dark cloud, a bright spot finally, after the difficulty of the last few months. "A fresh start, I gather?"

"Absolutely. A fresh start."