The bunker became a family home with more decorations and added touches. They considered leaving, but it was a huge space in a fairly nice town. It seemed foolish to leave. Ryan had plenty of space to grow and run around, not to mention countless books and knowledge they could give to him.
The little one was four now and was quite bright for his age. Or at least they thought so. Dean couldn't believe he'd be starting kindergarten soon. Time was flying by too fast. He now knew how parents felt when they lamented their children grew up too quickly.
"Papa!" He exclaimed, clambering into his lap. "Can I have some cookies? Pwease?"
"No, you're in trouble young man. You weren't very nice to your father yesterday." Dean reminded him.
Ryan pouted, his green eyes watering as he stared up at him. He looked just like Dean, but with darker hair and had more of Sam's eyes shape than his own. Like a perfect mix, really.
"I said I was sowry." He promised. "I didn't mean it."
"I know, but this is a learning lesson. If you're polite and a good helper, you get the things you want. If you're a brat, you go in time out." Dean explained calmly, not about to be suckered by that puppy-dog face.
"All I said was that he was a mean dummy." The child explained like he was discussing a drawing or the weather.
"Buddy, it's not nice. And your father's not stupid or mean, he was just trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. You're not supposed to mess with dangerous things like knives or scissors."
"I was just trying to fight like you." The boy insisted.
Dean frowned—he did still hunt here and there, working on cars the rest of his time. It was how he made his living. Sam had entirely quit hunting and worked full time at the legislative office. It was beginning to dawn on him he was a bad influence on his son. He didn't want Ryan to become a hunter, he wanted him to have the life they'd been denied. Or denied themselves, rather.
"I'm not doing that anymore and you shouldn't either." Dean told him, smiling fondly. "Okay, Ryan?"
"Yes." He mumbled petulantly.
"Time for bed." He insisted.
"Ugh, why? I don't wanna. I'm not sleepy." The boy cried, clinging onto him despite his protests.
Dean rubbed his back, hoisting him onto his hip as he stood up. "It's nine o'clock, it's time for bed."
"Nooo!" He screeched, still holding onto his shirt for dear life.
"Ryan." Dean said sternly, effectively silencing him for a couple minutes.
o
When he tried to get him changed, that proved a little difficult. But despite his whining protests, the man got him changed into his pj's and tucked him into bed. Ryan pouted still, but began rubbing at his eyes.
"Sleepy?" He asked knowingly.
"No…." But he kept rubbing his eyes, yawning. "I'm sowry I said 'dat to daddy."
"I know you are, Ry. You're only in trouble for tonight, then you can have some cookies tomorrow if you're good. Alright?"
"Alright…" The child agreed sullenly, nodding.
"That's my boy." He kissed the top of his head, ruffling his brown hair. "Good night."
Ryan turned and flicked on his nightlight just like how his papa had shown him, beaming as it lit the room up a little. Needless to say, he was very afraid of the dark. Especially the dark closet.
"G'night!" The child yelled as Dean shut the door quietly.
Dean went to bed alone, knowing Sam wouldn't be back for a couple days. He was out of town on business. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a light sleep for a good hour, until he heard a loud scream. Jolting out of bed, he raced to Ryan's room and flung the door open.
"Ryan, what's wrong?"
The little boy looked petrified, trembling as his father kneeled next to his bed. "I heard something scary. Can you check my closet?"
"Fine. Only once, then it's back to bed."
"But the monsters could get me!"
"They won't." Dean opened the door, revealing nothing but clothes and boxes inside. "See? Nothing there."
"Can you check under my bed?"
Dean wanted to sigh, but did as told. Ryan didn't usually ask him to do this after all, it was rare. So he dropped to his knees, pretending to scan it thoroughly for his son's sake.
"No monsters."
"I bet you could beat 'em up." The child's tone was strange suddenly, but he thought nothing of it.
After all, Dean was a hunter. Former hunter, whatever. His kid knew that.
"I sure could, kid. Now, good night. For real this time."
"Okay." He smiled, crawling back under his covers. "I'm not scared anymore."
Dean only smiled, closing the door tightly. He walked through the hallways, wanting a late night snack. As he entered the kitchen, his heart almost stopped. Ryan was there, opening the refrigerator with a fistful of cookies in his tiny hand, covered with a paper towel.
"Ryan."
The little boy gasped, dropping his cookies. "Papa…sowry…I just really wanted some chocolate chip cookies. I only have two, see?"
Dean wasn't even listening. His heart was racing, confused and alarmed. Perhaps he'd imagined him being in his room. There was no way this was happening. Not again, not after all these years. It couldn't be Azazel.
He grabbed his son, hurriedly racing to their old storage trunk. Taking out a vial of holy water, he gestured for him to open his mouth. Ryan looked confused, but did so. After taking a sip, he looked at him curiously.
"Water?" The boy asked.
"Oh, god." He breathed, holding him close.
There were loud footsteps suddenly, banging unnaturally hard. No human could make that sort of racket. Dean felt genuine fear creep up his spine, even though he was used to this. Grabbing a knife and slipping a gun into his belt, he crept forward while keeping a hold on Ryan. The boy looked tired and confused by this point, rubbing his eyes.
"What's going on?" He asked.
A loud banging sounded near them but he couldn't see anything. Whatever it was, wasn't visible to the human eye. It could've been a demon or a spirit, but it was clearly vengeful. It didn't bother to materialize in front of him as a being.
Moving to get some salt, he easily made a circle around them. Loud, almost animalistic noises filled the kitchen. Dean looked worried, keeping his back against the counter. It sounded like a dog of some sort, maybe a hell-hound.
"Who are you?" He shouted. "What do you want?"
o
He woke up in a cold sweat, panting heavily. Dean stared at the clock, unsure which part had been a nightmare and which was real. Throwing the covers back, he hurriedly went to Ryan's room and quietly opened the door.
The boy slept peacefully, clutching his teddy bear tightly.
He deflated from relief. His heart was still racing. It all seemed real. It made the hunter realize how messed up their lives had been, for him to even still have dreams like those. Dean closed the door, placing a hand to his mouth.
He almost felt tempted to call Sam, but didn't want to bother him this late. Letting out a breath, he tried to calm down. There was no threat. They were fine.
"Are you alright, Dean?"
Cas' voice made him jump slightly and he placed a hand over his heart. "I'm getting too old for you to do that."
"You're still in your forties, you're not so old."
"Well, thanks, but my heart feels old right now." It was racing so hard it almost hurt.
Cas pressed a hand to his shoulder and the action relaxed him. Dean took a breath, smirking at the angel. "I'm glad you came here tonight."
"Of course. We're family."
It made Dean grin. "You should visit more often."
"I know. I'll try my best."
When Sam came back, Ryan raced to meet him. He flung his arms around his broad shoulders, squealing delightedly and giggling when he picked him up.
"Daddy!"
"Hi, bud. You been good?"
"Yes."
"He's been great."
Ryan struggled out of his grip, running back to his 'mother'. The little boy babbled to Dean about the drawing he made, making the older man smile fondly at him. Sam loved how different he was with kids—it was a gentler side of his brother that most never saw.
"Oh, what? You're not gonna tell me about your drawing?" Sam teased.
Ryan blushed. "No, I was gonna. I swear."
"It's actually pretty good. Kid might be an artist. Or some kind of designer."
"That's like the opposite of us. I like that." Sam laughed.
Dean smirked in response. "Hey Ryan, wanna go to the park today?"
"Yay!"
"Let's go. We can get some ice cream too."
"See you guys later." Sam said warmly, watching them go.
He cherished moments like these, before they got older and their son was no longer little. Over the years, their wants had changed. For Sam, he had bounced back and forth between wanting a regular life and hunting with his brother Dean.
In the end, he was glad that he had stuck by his side all these years instead of choosing the easy route. It led them to living an extreme, yet interesting life and Ryan existed because they'd chosen each other.
Sam gazed up at the clouds, smiling. For now, there was peace. And if there was another threat, they would do whatever they could. And if they couldn't, a new generation of hunters would. He continued to smile, feeling the warm sun beating down on his skin. Grabbing the handle, he glanced about before heading inside, shutting the door behind him.
Shaking his head a little as he entered the room, he mused again at how strange their lives truly were. Yet, he wouldn't trade it for anything. It might not have been anyone else's version of ordinary, but it was theirs.
Reviews are appreciated. Or flames, I could use them to warm myself up since it's cold right now. I hope you enjoyed this random crazy ass story. Happy Holidays!
Btw I'm huge fan of Supernatural, so I don't want people thinking I'm making fun of it. I honestly hope the show ends well. I really hope that they don't do the 'Buffy' ending where everyone becomes a hunter instead of a vampire slayer. Part of what makes Sam and Dean 'special' is the hunting! If everyone became a hunter that would be stupid, seriously. Not to bash Buffy which I loved but c'mon that ending!