Revised: 5 September 2014
Chapter Twenty-One
Life's Challenges
Chest muscles ached; an insistent throbbing in tune with the annoying beep beside her ear. Her mouth felt thick, fuzzy, dry, like it was stuffed full of cotton balls. Her head throbbed uncomfortably with each heartbeat, reminding her just how much her body truly disliked anesthesia. Lead weights were apparently tied to her eyelids or something, because she couldn't open them, and goddamn it, she was tired of that feeling.
It took considerable effort, but she managed to force them open. She blinked several times to focus her suddenly blurry world, only to find herself surrounded, for the upteenthgagillion time, by bright, blinding white. She coughed, wincing at the burning in her throat and a pain in her side as a face came into focus above hers.
She squinted until her eyes adjusted to take in the squared jaw line, the full lips, the golden hair, and those familiar sparkling blue eyes.
"Well hello there, Princess," Noah said by way of greeting.
"Jackass," she rasped, even as he settled a hand gently on her forehead.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fan-freaking-tastic," she mumbled, trying to ignore her throbbing headache. Something cold pressed against her lips, and she opened them instinctively, accepting the ice chip Noah was offering her. It was cold in her mouth, but as it melted, her mouth felt a bit less fuzzy.
There were other voices, but her head was throbbing and her eyes became unfocused again, the voices becoming nothing but wordless noise. When they finally focus again, Pete was standing beside her bed, as were three other men she recognized.
"Hey, sweetheart. How's the head?"
"Hurts," she said, grumpily. She eyed the doctor and Noah, who was grinning at her display of attitude, while Michael was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and expression smug. The fourth man was in a suit that screamed Fed, a man she recognized easily – the asshole who'd got her into this whole mess in the first place. "What happened?"
"Why don't we have Agent 'I am a massive dick' Williamson explain," Michael suggested, his tone cold, contempt written all over his face as he gazed at the fidgeting and obviously uncomfortable FBI Agent.
"Can I have a moment alone?" Williamson growled. The three men exchanged looks before shrugging.
"We'll be right outside the door," Noah said, checking him with his shoulder. "Try anything, and I'll snap your neck like a twig." The door slammed shut behind him, leaving her alone with one of the last people on earth she wanted to have to look at.
Agent Williamson fidgeted. "Ma'am," he said finally, looking down at the top of his loafers. "My name is Agent Richard Williamson. Two nights ago, or rather, yesterday morning, I followed my orders to storm your house in search of fugitive Dean Winchester." He paused to glance up at her, quickly looking at the floor again and clearing his throat. "I came through on my mission but I failed as a Federal Agent to protect innocent people, and in so doing, indirectly got you admitted to this hospital after one of my over-eager SWAT members slammed you into the ground and caused a chain of events that ultimately led to your lung collapsing."
"Spit out whatever it is you're trying to say," she mumbled impatiently.
"What I'm trying to say, ma'am, is that I over-reacted when I shouldn't have. I humbly apologize on behalf of my superior officer, SSA Paxton, and just have to say, ma'am, that I fully disagreed with his decision to detain you in the middle of the night. I was just following orders, but all the same, I really am sorry."
Paige studied him for a long moment, taking in the cheap suit, the scuffed loafers, his military haircut, and the youth in his face. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-four, ma'am," he replied quietly, rubbing his hands together and finally looking at her.
"Military?"
"No, ma'am. Military brat."
"I see."
"New to the Bureau?"
"Yes, ma'am. This is my first assignment in the field."
She shifted to alleviate her discomfort. "I…I know what it's like to be reckless when the adrenaline rush is high, Agent Williamson. Not to say that I'm not going to press charges, but I do forgive you." She pointed at the chair. "Have a seat."
Williamson obeyed, resting his hands on his knees. "You were a soldier?" he asked, curious.
"United Stated Army," she confirmed. "Now ask me whatever it is you need to ask me."
"Do you know where your husband is?"
"That is a hell of a good question," Paige sighed, thinking fast. She had to protect Dean, now. "Last I heard, he was headed for South Dakota."
"So you had no idea that he is killing people in Missouri?"
"What?" she gasped, priding herself at succeeding in being sincere. "You're lying."
"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Winchester. Your husband was found dead late last night, shot twice in the heart, and all evidence points to the fact that he is responsible for at least four deaths in the area."
Her hand flew to her mouth. "He's dead?" she gasped, this time not faking it. When did that happen? Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, filling her eyes until they slid down her cheeks. "No. No, you're wrong!"
Williamson's face fell. "I…I'm afraid not, ma'am. They are holding his service tomorrow afternoon. The Bureau has offered to pay in full to transport you to Missouri for his funeral. I…I'm so sorry."
Oh my God. Her husband was dead. She felt like a huge hole had just been blown through her chest, even as Michael and Noah rushed back into her room when they noticed she was crying. Oh, God, Sammy. What was she going to tell Sammy?
"Mrs. Winchester, I have to ask, did your husband ever hit you or your son?"
"No! Never! Not once!" she said, venom in her voice. "How dare you…you…"
"I know it's hard," Williamson said gently, "but I have to know, to finalize the investigation. Ma'am, did you know that your husband was a murderer?"
"No," she said, her voice shaking even as Michael pulled her into his side, his expression pained. This was impossible. Dean was invincible. He wasn't supposed to die, not now, not ever, at least not for the next forty years at least. She couldn't believe her ears, even as her mind raged against the knowledge, sending her already fluctuating hormones into overdrive.
"I think you need to leave now," Noah said coldly, manhandling the smaller man to the door.
"I understand," Williamson sighed. "I truly am sorry. His funeral is at four thirty."
Noah slammed the door in his face. "Hey, shh, no crying," she said, patting her knee. "I talked to my dad, who said he spoke to Dean last night. It's the shifter that's dead, not Dean. Don't worry."
She socked him on the arm. "Well, you couldn't opened on that, you jerk!" she rasped at him, still unable to yell. "God, scare me half to death! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Couldn't say anything with him there, sweetcheeks," Noah pointed out, rolling his eyes. "Now, come on. Pete went off to do his rounds, but he's dismissed you for personal reasons, and expects you to come back as soon as you get home. We have to play the good family members and go to his funeral."
"Oh my God," Paige realized, clutching at Michael's sleeve. "Mikey…what am I going to tell Sammy?"
It was colder than Paige anticipated outside, and she pulled her jacket closer around her body to ward off the chill. She felt completely fine, and honestly, was looking forward to putting the hospital in her rearview mirror for a while. She would just rather not be forced to attend a funeral for her undead husband.
"Now you be careful, young lady," Pete warned, shaking his finger in her face. "No more injures. Take it easy for baby Winchester. Speaking of baby Winchester, I'll do the ultrasound the minute you get back, or have Amy do it, whichever you prefer. Take care."
"I will, Pete. Thank you, again. For everything." She hugged him. "I don't know what this town would do without you."
"Shrivel up and die," he retorted with a grin.
Paige kissed him on the cheek. "Dean owes you big time," she told him.
"He doesn't owe me a thing, just as long as you stay healthy, missy. You better be back here so I can give you a checkup the minute that you get home."
"I will."
Noah's suburban pulled up the curb and both he and Michael got out, walking over to where they stood talking under the safety of the eave. It was snowing softly and their breath made fog in the air.
"Besides, I've got these loons to look after me," she assured him, smiling as her cousin and his partner walked up. "That is, provided they haven't been kicked out of the FBI for spending so much time here instead of at work."
"We took leaves of absence," the pair said in unison.
"Though my boss wasn't happy to find out I'm cousin to the wife of 'serial killer' Dean Winchester," Michael inputted.
"And he was even less amused to find that said serial killer was one of our best friends," Noah added.
"Eh, who cares. We're not quitting the FBI or taking the heat for something we all know Dean didn't do, anyway."
"See you late tonight or very early tomorrow?" Paige asked, turning to look at the quiet doctor.
"Whenever you get in, my phone is always on," he said, lifting his hand in farewell. "And get a good night's rest!" he called over his shoulder, and with that, he turned and walked back into the hospital.
"Why don't you lie down in the back and get some rest?" Noah suggested. He got in the driver's seat, and Michael sat in the back with her, patting his thigh to suggest she was welcome to use it as a pillow. Too tired to argue, she obliged him.
It was going to be a long drive to Cheyenne, anyway, and she might as well be comfortable.
Paige was shaky. She literally felt sick, her legs felt like jelly, and even though she knew that it wasn't her husband, seeing his lookalike in that pine box had brought her very worst nightmare to life and slapped it in her face.
She stood silently beside the casket, sickeningly amazed at how much the creature resembled Dean. Every little thing was the same…except for the hands. She could tell just by looking at the hands that it wasn't Dean – they weren't scarred enough, and the fingers weren't slightly crooked from being set at odd angles for his entire life.
All the same, though, it was a scene she would have preferred to avoid. The strength of her family kept her upright, her dad's arm around her waist comforting as he tried to hide his own shock at the resemblance.
The priest finally finished the last rights, snapped his bible shut, and folded his arms while they all placed their roses on top of the wood surface and the casket was lowered into the ground inch by slow-moving inch. And then it was down completely, and Paige wiped her eyes free of involuntary tears, and her family made its way off the funeral ground and back into the limousines.
Once inside, they could talk freely.
"You okay?" her dad asked gently, giving her a careful hug.
"Fine, daddy."
"It's not really him."
"I know. It just…it looked like him. That's an image I never wanted to see, and…"
"Shh," he soothed. "I know sweetheart. As soon as Dean gets home, you'll be okay again." He kissed his eldest daughter on the forehead and pulled her into his side, smiling as his over-protective nephews and cousins flexed their fists as if hoping to beat away her despair in the cushions of the limo seats. For the record, none of them had been particularly calm about the shapeshifter, either, because each and every one of them didn't want to lose Dean.
After all, he was family.
The drive back to the airport was long. He didn't even try to argue with the boys, he just gently eased her into Michael's waiting arms as the protective boy strode off for the tarmac, settling into the seat with her head resting on his shoulder. Jared limped along with Noah's help, until all thirty-eight of them were seated on the jet and on a flight back to Wyoming.
All of them thought broodily about the events of the last few days…and all of them, including Ally, wished that above anything else they could have wasted that asshole taking a dirtnap in Missouri before he'd caused so much pain to their family.
Two Weeks Later
Jared's Ranch House
The Knox family ranch house was uncharacteristically quiet, despite the number of people packed into the living room and kitchen, seated at various chairs and such. Jared was finally home from the hospital, but his homecoming was darkened slightly by Dean and Sam's continued silence. No one had heard a word in two and a half weeks. The last person to have had contact was Noah's father Bruce Clayborne, who hadn't heard a squeak since and was currently occupied in discussion with Brad, his left leg bouncing restlessly up and down.
Paige was helping to bake the pounds of food for the welcome-home party scheduled to start at seven. She'd been quieter than usual the past few weeks, and her family had noticed that her baby bump was only slightly starting to show, especially with her sudden thinness.
But then, seeing Dean's lookalike in a pine box had frightened them all. That thing had looked exactly like him…creepily like him. Except for the hands, and the missing pendant Dean was never without. But other than that, the asshole could've easily passed as him. To anyone besides his family, at least.
"How's she holding up?" Jared asked quietly, watching her move about the kitchen. He was seated on the couch, supported by various plush pillows and half-covered in a light blanket. His girlfriend, Rachel Wilkins, also his former nurse, had insisted upon coming along, and together both she and Paige had ordered him not to move, an order he didn't mind all that much considering how much pain he was still in. He was just happy to be out of the damn hospital.
Michael popped a carrot in his mouth, momentarily ignoring the chess game he was playing with Noah in favor of studying his cousin's cousin. He looked between Jared and Paige, taking in their pale complexions, the shadows under their eyes, and their general thinness. Apparently, neither had fully recovered from their ordeals yet.
He studied Rachel as her and Paige laughed over some joke while chopping tomatoes and peppers for a salad, noting how the young nurse's bubbly personality had been refreshing to their half-depressed gathering. With a sigh, he shrugged to answer Jared's question.
"She's not sleeping well, which is understandable. But she's strong. All she needs is to see for herself that Dean is alive. Ch—his death left scars on all of us, Jare."
"I know." Jared yawned and rested his head against the back of the couch, watching the sedated gathering through half-closed eyes.
Sammy and Levi were playing with blocks on the floor while Zeus snored, only his nose sticking up from his ridiculously fluffy bed. Little Abby was sitting in Elliot's lap, her wide-eyed blue gaze shifting from person to person while her father spoke seriously to Brad and Bruce. Elliot's wife, Lisa, was also in the kitchen along with Ally, Paige, and Rachel, while Noah and Michael, on the other hand, were engaged in an intense chess game on the coffee table. The rest of the family would arrive in an hour or so, and the family friends and pretty much the whole town, an hour after that.
He unconsciously followed Rachel with his eyes as she moved about the kitchen, her laugh carrying through the doorway every now and then. He smiled despite himself and felt at peace for the first time in years.
"Looks like you caught the bug," Michael said without looking up from the board, and after a long pause, took one of Noah's knights with his Queen.
"Meaning?"
"You're falling for little miss blondie in there."
Jared's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Giving up, he colored slightly and crossed his arms. "Already fell," he corrected, the corners of his lips pulling into a sheepish half-smile.
"Ah, man, I was kidding!" Michael groaned, slumping into the couch cushions and palming his face. "At this rate, I'm going to be the only one left single!"
"Your mom's going to start demanding grandbabies," Noah said, amusement tinting his tone. "And we all know how she gets. Nobody says no to your mother, not even your dad, and he's the freaking Commandant of the Marine Corps."
"Don't remind me," he muttered.
"Check."
"Shit." Michael leaned forward to figure out exactly how in the hell that had happened.
"Language!" Ally scolded as she appeared bearing chips and salsa. She glared down at Michael for his cussing in front of the children, her brown eyes stormy.
"Food," Michael and Noah groaned in unison, forgetting their chess game in favor of reaching for the chip bag.
Ally slapped their hands away with her spatula and set the chips and salsa on the table. Michael pouted at her, Noah glared, and Jared just grinned, enjoying the show.
"Marry me," Michael joked, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles.
"Kinda sudden, Michael, I need to think about it," she retorted.
"You, Ms. Baraldi, are a heartbreaker."
"I try." She winked and went back to the kitchen, and as soon as she was out of sight the partners started fighting over salsa rights. Michael won and grinned his triumph.
"Checkmate," Noah smirked, snatching the salsa from his partner when he leaned over the board, incredulous.
Michael socked Noah on the shoulder when he realized his partner had been faking to get the salsa. "My turn, asshole!" he sniped, trying to snatch the salsa back but to no avail.
"MICHAEL!"
"Sorry!" he shouted at once, breathing a sigh of relief when Ally remained, thank God, in the kitchen.
Noah and Michael resumed their chess game, and Jared, bored and with nothing else to do, watched their battle of wits. He observed that it was mostly them staring at the board for three minutes before making a move, and then some more staring after they'd made a move. He'd never really understood the point of chess…it was mostly a game entirely played in your head, anyway. Boring as hell. He preferred card games and blowing up shit with C4.
"Hey, Jare?" Michael said after a long period of silence, in which Noah claimed two knights, five pawns, a castle, and a bishop, and Michael claimed a queen, a knight, three pawns, and a bishop. Noah had declared Check a moment ago.
"Hmm?"
"You don't really think…that he…he…"
"No." Jared's voice was firm, spoken with utmost belief in their meaning. He opened his eyes just as Paige smiled at something Ally had said. "He wouldn't let go. She's his whole life."
"Yeah," Michael sighed, rubbing his face.
"HA! Checkmate!" Noah cried in triumph, knocking Michael's king over with his Knight. The entire room turned to stare at him, and he just grinned sheepishly. "Uh…sorry. My bad."
"Nice," Michael snorted.
"Shut up."
There was another comfortable silence as Michael and Noah set the board back up.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" Jared asked after a while.
"What?" the FBI Agents parroted absently and in perfect unison. It was sometimes scary how alike they were.
"How much they care about each other." As Jared spoke, Sammy toddled into the kitchen and gripped Paige's pant leg until she bent down and lifted the boy onto her hip. "And about that little kid."
Zeus suddenly emerged from his bed, a feather sticking from his lip, ears pricked forward. He shot forward without warning, making it out the door to the backyard before he started barking.
Forgetting everything, the people in the house ran to the windows, upturning the chess board and kitchen table as they did so, but nobody really cared. All their attention was occupied on gazing at the fields, where Zeus was headed in a path straight as a bullet from a gun, the rest of the dogs joining him as they bounded through the snow.
Two figures on horseback appeared over the hill, cantering through the pasture while the dogs kept pace beside them.
"Just Ty and Chuck," Brad sighed, rubbing his face.
"No," Michael said, shaking his head. "Look."
Everyone got a good look at the horse up front, a familiar dark bay impossible to mistake for anyone else.
"Sergeant," Paige breathed, daring to hope as the riders drew ever nearer.
The horses were in the yard now, the riders dismounting. One, bowlegged and steady, the other, tall, lanky, and awkward, as if he'd never sat upon a horse before. When they turned, the entire room let out a sigh of relief and a whoop of joy, all at the same time, turning to hug each other.
Sam and Dean were home.
"Man, will you relax already?"
"It's been almost two and a half weeks, Sam."
"I know."
"So, I can't relax. I can't."
"Well, can you break a few less traffic laws?" Sam said with a laugh.
Dean was relieved more than words could describe when he pulled into the familiar drive. He shut off the engine and jumped out of the car, noticing that the lights in the house were all off. The snow was thick on the ground and it was cold.
"Where is everyone?" Sam called, shivering slightly.
"Probably at Jared's. He was supposed to be released today." Dean closed the Impala's door and headed for the barn at a brisk jog. "Come on," he shouted, waving him over. "Fastest way is to cut through the pasture."
"What does that mean?" Sam called back, chasing after him. The inside of the barn was warm and smelled pleasantly of hay and wood and some other musky scent he couldn't identify.
Dean had disappeared into one of the stalls, so his voice was muffled when he replied, "It means we're taking the horses, Sam," he said.
He hesitantly approached the stall – he'd never been in a stable before – and found his brother buckling a bridle onto the huge bay stallion, Sergeant. As he watched, his brother finished with the bridle and spread a blanket across his back before heaving an obviously heavy saddle onto his back with a grunt.
"What are you doing?"
"Cinching the girth," Dean replied, doing just that, lowering his stirrups while he was at it. "Come on, I'll put you on Taurus."
"Taurus?"
"He's Ty's horse. Used to be a maniac. Now he's calm and super easy to ride."
Sam snorted. Talk about an oxymoron.
It took Dean five minutes to get the horse ready. Taurus was a huge black Quarter Horse gelding, but much to Sam's relief his dark brown eyes were gentle. Apparently, according to Dean, he needed a bigger horse than most people did because he was so tall. And, as Ty was tall, Taurus would work. Not that the name was putting Sam at ease, or anything…
And then, before Sam knew it, he was standing in the snow holding Taurus' reigns and not having the slightest idea what to do with them or the horse in general.
Dean sighed, impatient to get to his family. "Put your left foot in the left stirrup," he instructed. "Grab the saddle horn and seat for balance, and swing your right leg over his back. But be careful not to kick him in the side with your toes."
Sam huffed in annoyance but did as he was instructed, surprised that it was a little bit harder to swing his weight up than he'd anticipated. Once in the saddle he shifted to get comfortable, unused to the feeling. He held the reins awkwardly in his hands as Dean swung up onto Sergeant's back and calmed his prancing like a pro, which, Sam realized, he was.
"Guide him with the reigns, Sam. Taurus will just follow Sarge, it's no big deal, really. We'll be trotting mostly. Just relax your hips and don't fight the motion or your butt will be sore for a week."
Sergeant set off at a brisk trot, Taurus following close behind and slightly to the side. At first, Sam bounced all over the place, wincing and fighting the movement, until, eventually, he relaxed and moved with the horse. That was much easier, and eventually he got the hang of it and just enjoyed the scenery. Wyoming was like a different world when it was white and sparkling.
"How's it goin' back there?"
Sam smiled and tried to ignore the increasing stabbing pains shooting through his backside and thighs. Riding a horse was not as easy as it looked, and the saddle was as uncomfortable as hell. "Fine," he managed to grind out past his teeth knocking together.
"Reeeeelax," he suggested, dropping his reigns. "Guide him with your hands." He moved his own hands in demonstration, not even watching where his horse was going, keeping him moving forward with only his legs. "Horses read your body language through your seat and your hands. Just like a baby, Sam, if you're tense, he's going to be tense. It's hard and awkward—believe me, I know—but just relax."
Sam forced a smile and struggled to do as his brother had instructed. Eventually, thank God, a barn appeared, and the horses slowed as they halted outside of it. Dean dismounted and immediately led Sergeant into the warm protection of the building, while Sam struggled to dismount.
Dean came to his rescue, holding Taurus' reigns as Sam dragged himself off the great beast's back, forcing himself not to groan as he did so.
"I can teach you how to ride tomorrow, if you like," Dean offered.
Sam would be surprised if he could get out of bed in the morning. His legs felt like jelly and the only thing keeping him upright was the stirrup he was currently clutching. He hobbled painfully forward as Dean led Taurus into the barn, using cross-ties to keep the horse stationary in the isle.
"Keeps 'em from rolling," Dean explained, as Sam noted that Sergeant and Taurus were on opposite ends of the barn from each other, and out of biting reach of the other horses in the stable, who watched them sleepily with ears pricked forward, probably hoping for lunch or food of some sort. While Dean did his thing Sam held his knuckles out to the nearest horse, a gentle-looking gray with dark brown eyes who breathed softly on his fingers.
They were majestic creatures, he supposed. Gentle enough, too, or at least Taurus and this one were. He wasn't so sure about Sergeant. He almost fell over when Dean slapped his shoulders, eager to get inside, aware that the barking dogs would have alerted Jared and the others to his presence.
Dean strode out of the barn, scratching his dogs on the head; they all licked his hands, their tails wagging at Mach ten, they were so excited.
While Dean was busy with the dogs, Sam took a moment to study his surroundings. He'd heard plenty about Jared's ranch, but he'd never actually seen it. The ranch house itself was as huge and sprawling as Dean and Paige's, two stories, and lit up like Times Square in the falling dusk. The doors suddenly flew open and people poured out onto the porch.
A whoop rose from the house as people poured down the porch and ran for them, throwing their cowboy hats in the air as they charged through the snow toward the brothers.
"Hey!" Dean called, laughing as Michael tackled him into the snow, laughing like a fool.
"You bastard, I knew you were alive!" Michael laughed, grabbing him in a headlock and ruffling his hair.
"Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint," he replied with a grin, trying not to fall on his face when Noah's hand slammed between his shoulder blades, the force behind it enough to knock him off balance.
"God, it is good to see you, boy," Brad said, grinning hugely as he knocked Dean's hand aside and gripped him in a bone-crushing hug.
Dean was surprised, but touched by the gesture. He looked over Brad's shoulder. "Jare! You're outta the hospital!"
Jared grinned weakly, supported on both sides by Rachel and Ally. "Yeah, this morning," he informed his friend.
Gently shoving the women aside, Dean grasped his friend in a hug, releasing him to hold him by his shirt and shove a finger playfully in his face. "Don't you ever do that again, ya hear?"
"That's a promise I'll do my best to keep," he said, slapping Dean's cheek. "Man, words cannot describe how relieved we are. Why didn't you call?"
"I called Bruce," he defended himself.
"And why is that, you idiot?" Bruce grumbled, from his vantage point beside Brad, standing with his feet braced apart and arms crossed over his chest.
Dean shrugged. "Couldn't risk calling the family, not with the FBI there, you know?" He looked around, his edginess coming through. He looked at his father-in-law. "Where is she?"
"On the porch," Brad replied as Ally and the others caught up and mobbed Sam, overwhelming him with their enthusiastic welcome.
He held his hand up to shield his eyes from the last rays of the setting sun, and then he saw her, standing on the porch, her arm wrapped absently around a post as she watched the scene below, and the strain of the last three weeks melted away. He bounded up the steps two at a time, capturing her face in his hands, staring into that familiar blue gaze.
"Hey," he said with a soft smile, and then he was kissing her, and everything melted away. There was no more panic, no more fear or anger or resentment. Even with the cheering from below, he focused only on the woman he held in his arms.
Paige kissed him back, holding onto the front of his jacket to keep herself upright as her knees went weak, and she became dizzy from lack of oxygen. There was pent up and anger and passion in the kiss, until she coaxed him to calmness, so that his lips became gentle, tender, against hers. The heat of his calloused palms burned her cheeks. She hadn't really believed that the horrible funeral was fake until the moment she felt his solid warmth and strength enveloping her. The lingering fear that the shapeshifter had killed Dean vanished; shapeshifter or not, nothing could mimic his scent.
When he pulled away, she could breathe again. His forehead rested on hers, eyes closed as he struggled to control the emotions whirling around in his head. "Do you believe it now?" he whispered, knowing where her mind would be.
She tucked her face against his neck and relaxed into his embrace, nodding the affirmative. His heartbeat was steady within his chest, even as the tax of everything overcame her and — damn her hormones — she felt the first tears leaking down her cheeks.
Dean's hand snaked under her shirt, rubbing comforting circles on her lower back. The emotional setback would be daunting — for a time, at least — but he wouldn't trade it for the world. He could hear Sammy and Levi inside, and closed his eyes in profound relief that his family was whole again.
He rested his cheek on the top of her head, pulling her close while the family mounted the stairs in renewed celebration. They smiled at each other and shared a chaste kiss.
It was good to be home.
For the first time ever, Ally had managed to get Noah and Sam in the same room when there was no risk of imminent death or other people to eavesdrop on their conversations.
Lucky for them Jared's library was just as large and expansive as the one at Paige and Dean's house, previously belonging to Paige's grandfather. In here they would have relative privacy, especially since everyone was distracted wringing as much information about the shapeshifter hunt out of Dean as they possibly could.
"So," Ally said with false cheer. "Here we are. In the same room."
"With you blocking the exit and acting like a lunatic," Noah retorted from where he was leaning against Jared's desk with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankles. Sam was perched on the arm of one of the armchairs near the desk. "What on earth has gotten into you?"
"We need to talk," she told them.
Sam didn't say a word, just lifted his eyebrows and exchanged a look with Noah.
"About . . . things," Ally pressed on, trying to ignore her mounting nervousness.
"How wonderfully specific," Noah drawled, rolling his eyes. "Is this about how you know him?" he asked, jerking his thumb in Sam's direction.
"On second thought, I need to talk to Noah first," Ally said quickly, manhandling Sam out the door. He was so surprised he let her. "Come back in ten minutes?"
"Um," Sam said eloquently a moment before she slammed the door in his face and leaned against it, trying to gather her nerve.
"You have officially lost your mind," Noah observed, shaking his head as a grin stretched across his face. It was his fond grin though, soft and gentle, and it made his eyes crinkle. She knew he wasn't really offended, he was mostly just baffled by her admittedly bizarre behavior over the past twenty minutes.
"I have something I need to tell you," she admitted, wringing her hands.
"I gathered," he said gently, moving to push off the desk. She waylaid him by leaning into his chest instead, wrapping her arms around him and just holding onto him for dear life. For a long moment, he let her, before he exhaled and kissed the top of her head. "Ally, you know you can tell me anything."
"I just don't want you to hate me," she whispered into his shirt, too afraid to look him in the eye.
Noah cupped the back of her head, the other arm looping around her waist. "Al, I managed to recover from you kicking me out of my own house and telling me I could never see Levi again just because he called me daddy," he reminded her quietly. There was no accusation in his tone, merely a stated fact, but she still winced at the reminder of her cruel behavior. "I don't think there's much you could do to make me hate you. Or rather, for me to hate you, you would have to do things I know you would never do."
"I know," she murmured, bracing herself and inhaling deeply before she blurted, "I wanted to tell you who Levi's father is."
"Okay," Noah said simply, still cupping the back of her head. His arm squeezed her closer in a hug before relaxing again. "Al, you know you don't have to tell me, right? It never mattered."
"I trust you to know," Ally stubbornly insisted, finally lifting her head to meet his gaze. "I would have told you ages ago, I kind of just got in the habit of never telling anyone even though it was stupid, and then I kind of just figured it didn't matter and kept putting it off and putting it off until I'd completely convinced myself that it didn't matter. But it does matter. You're his daddy, Noah. Biologically, though, his father is — well, his you see, half his DNA belongs to — I mean, his sperm donor — "
"Is Sam," he finished for her, taking pity on how she was struggling to get the words out.
Ally jerked backwards so suddenly she almost fell, her mouth agape. "You knew?"
Noah shrugged. "I'm observant," he reminded her with a small smile. "I couldn't help but notice how many facial features Levi and Sam share. Or that their bitchfaces are identical."
Her shoulders slumped miserably.
"Hey," he murmured, pulling her into his arms and kissing her temple. "I'm so honored that you trusted me enough to tell me, Ally. I could really only guess and draw conclusions on what my eyes were telling me, but my eyes aren't actually perfect. I didn't know for sure until you dragged us both into the library."
"You're not mad?" she whispered into his throat.
Noah considered that for a long moment. "I'm not exactly thrilled," he admitted. "But I'm not mad, no. I just — I love Levi. I love him."
"I know you do," she assured him, kissing his shoulder. "You're wonderful with him and I couldn't have asked for a better father for my son, Noah, I mean that."
"I know you do. I'm just — worried, I guess. That someone will try to take him away from me again."
He left it unsaid that she'd tried to take Levi away once already, and Allyson hated herself for that. God, she had been such a bitch. Tears burned her eyes, tears of shame and regret and self-hatred.
"Your name is on the birth certificate," she reminded him quietly. "Noah, nobody is going to take him from you. I won't let them, and the Horde won't either. I'm so, so, so sorry for back then, for how awful I was, and I can say sorry a thousand times, a million even, and it won't make up for it. But I won't do that ever again because it's not important what the adults want. It's important what Levi wants, and he thinks you walk on water and loves you to death."
Noah sighed and admitted, "I know."
He looked so sad and lost that it broke her heart. Noah could front with the best of them, but he was letting her see that deep down, he was terrified of losing Levi, and by extension, her. Ally hugged him around the neck, peppered his face with kisses until the sad look disappeared and he was obviously trying not to laugh, brow furrowing as he tried to figure out what she was doing.
"What are you doing, you maniac?" he laughed, squirming and little. She just tightened her arms and rubbed their noses together with a smile.
"Loving on you," she said simply and with a dopey grin.
"You're ridiculous," he told her, but his tone was soft and fond, so she didn't take offense.
There was a knock on the door that interrupted them.
"It's been ten minutes," Sam told them through the wood. They arranged themselves and told him he could come in.
"I told him," Ally said as soon as he shut the door behind him.
Sam froze, hand still on the doorknob and watching Noah closely. He'd heard stories of the man's short temper and fists like sledgehammers (Kyle had been particularly insistent on informing him he was moments away from getting the daylights punched out of him), but the blonde looked calm and maybe even a little uneasy from his perch on the edge of the desk, where he was slouched down and as such he was a little bit less intimidating, but only a little bit.
"That's good, right?" he hazarded, inching closer to sit in one of the armchairs.
Noah just shrugged indifferently, crossing his arms across his chest. It didn't escape Sam's notice how the man's biceps bulged with the movement but for once he didn't think the FBI agent was doing it to intimidate. It almost looked defensive.
"He's Levi's father in everything but blood, Sam, so he gets a say in Levi's future too," Ally said quietly, folding her hands in her lap. "We need to decide how we are going to work this out."
"We go back to Denver two days from now," Noah told him briskly. "We aren't up here all the time, but we come up when we can, especially when the weather is nice. We'll be up again at the end of January for Dean's birthday."
"So you're saying I'd only get to see him when you guys are up here," Sam concluded, crossing his own arms as he leaned back into his chair and chewed his lip.
"I have a court case in three days that I have to be there for," Ally shrugged. "Noah has a job in the FBI. Levi is at the daycare when I'm in court, but I work from home for the most part besides then."
"But, you're saying I'd only get to see him sometimes."
"Unless you relocate to Denver, yeah," Noah shrugged. "Thunder Creek is too far away for our careers, unfortunately." He rubbed a hand through his hair. "Look, you've got just as much of a right to be in his life as I do. But he's still little, he's not even two yet. If we start telling him he has two dads now, he isn't going to understand."
"We should tell him when he's older," Ally agreed, burying her face in her hands for a moment. "It's going to be confusing enough for him as it is, Sam. He barely even knows you."
"That's not my fault," Sam defended himself. "I didn't even know he existed!"
"Well, you know now," Noah told him matter-of-factly. "What you do with that is up to you, I just want to make something clear. He's my son, too, and nothing will ever change that."
"I understand," Sam assured the tall blonde, holding his hands up placatingly. "I don't want to take him from you. I've never wanted to. I just want to have him in my life. I mean, he's my son, my own flesh and blood."
"We know, Sam," they said in unison.
Sam exhaled shakily, collapsing backwards into his chair. "You two want me to take it slow, don't you?"
"Baby steps," Noah agreed with a faint smile. "Get to know him. He's a loving little boy, I can guarantee you that. As long as he has you around, I don't think it will be too hard for him to understand when he's older."
"So are you mad at me?" Dean asked Paige, unlacing his boots and kicking them away into the pile containing his shirt, jeans, and tank top. His wife was in the bathroom brushing her teeth, hair already braided.
Paige appeared, ready for bed and rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Mad?" she said quietly, sitting beside him. She glanced over to see him nod. "I don't know. Maybe." He scooted to the end of the bed, pulling her into his arms, where she found herself straddling his lap, arms around his neck.
"You know something?" he said quietly, undoing her braid and unwinding it so that her hair fell loosely around her shoulders in golden ringlets.
"What?"
"I know how you feel. The not knowing."
She tilted her head sideways, eyes narrowing in curiosity.
"Bruce called me to tell me you were in the hospital," he explained, slowly unbuttoning her over shirt and easing it off of her shoulders. "I could barely breathe. God only knows how I kept it together. I didn't know any details. I didn't know if you were alive or dead. For weeks, it was like that." He kissed her shoulder, pulling her closer. "The not knowing, it almost drove me mad. Sam and I hunted, but I was distracted, playing million questions inside my head." He sighed, absently rubbing her back. "So you aren't alone. And I am never, ever going to go through that again, ever."
"I never said I was alone, Dean," she whispered, running her hand through his hair.
Dean stood, her legs wrapped around his waist, kissing her as he turned off the lights and somehow made it back to the bed, lowering them both onto it, never once breaking the kiss. He edged her shirt up inch by inch, until he broke the kiss and moved downward to nuzzle their baby.
Paige sighed as shivers cascaded up her body, reaching up to stroke a hand through his hair again as she leaned over to turn off the last light. She pulled him back up to his proper place and kissed him.
"I love you, Dean Winchester," she told him softly, running her hands up his arms to his shoulders, stopping at his neck to pull him closer, loving the feel of his muscles and warm skin dotted with raised scars under her hands.
He kissed her gently on the forehead and removed her shirt entirely. "Love you, too."
Thunder Creek, WY
January 24, 2006
"Daddy!"
"Hold on, Sammy," Dean said patiently.
"Huwwy!"
"Hurry, little dude," he corrected absently. He and Sammy were walking the horses back to the stable. Or rather, he was walking Sergeant and his son was holding the end of the lead rope, grinning from ear to ear because he thought he was walking the huge stallion all by himself.
"Not too fast, Sammy," he warned, mindful of his son's general klutziness.
Sammy tipped his head back to look up at him, little round-cheeked face serious. "Wha peepa?" he asked, tone curious.
Dean ruffled Sammy's honey-blonde hair. "It's my birthday today, buddy," he explained. "All the people are coming for the party your mommy planned for later."
"Oh." Sammy nodded solemnly, curiosity abated and back to business, marching down the path with Sergeant quietly following beside Dean's right shoulder. They made it back to the barn–finally, it was flippin' cold outside–and put Sergeant back in his stall. As Dean unbuckled his halter, the stallion bent his head to the boy's and blew softly into his hair, ruffling it and gently nuzzling his forehead.
Sammy giggled in pure delight, kissing the end of his velvety muzzle, at the softest spot, right between the stallion's nostrils.
Dean smiled and patted his stallion's neck affectionately. Sergeant may constantly test his patience and ability, but damn, that horse became as gentle and docile as a baby lamb whenever Sammy was in the vicinity.
"You want to sit on his back, bud?" he asked.
Sammy grinned and held his arms up. Dean grinned back and swung him up onto Sergeant's broad back.
"But you have to hold on tight, okay?"
"Kay!"
Sergeant started to doze off as Dean brushed his coat until it was gleaming, starting with his neck and moving methodically to the stallion's haunches. Sammy sat wide-eyed, afraid to move, until he realized that Sergeant didn't dare to even shift a foot because he was on his back. As soon as he realized that, he relaxed, his smile bright and wide, one hand clutching tight to the stallion's black mane. He placed his other hand on Sergeant's neck, fingers splayed wide. Before Dean could stop him, he leaned forward until his cheek was resting against the horse's neck, too.
Dean paused mid-brush, watching to make sure his son wasn't going to fall. He needn't have worried. Sergeant swung his head around to gently nudge Sammy upwards so that he was square on his back and less likely to fall off. The little boy just blinked sleepily and reached out to pat him on his forehead.
"Warm," Sammy mumbled, hugging Sergeant as far around the neck as his arms would go.
Dean nodded agreement and kissed his son tenderly on the forehead. "Tired?" he whispered, rubbing noses with him.
"No, Daddy."
"Uhuh. So you're just checking your eyelids for holes, then?" he teased. It was past Little Sammy's naptime, and he knew his baby boy well enough to know that he was tired as hell. All his son did was nod as his eyelids slowly fluttered shut. Not three seconds later Sammy's body went lax, fitting to the contours of the stallion's back as he succumbed to sleep.
Dean chuckled softly and continued to brush his stallion. The work was familiar and methodical. Sergeant checked on Sammy every once and a while, until eventually falling into a light doze himself. When he finally finished grooming him, Dean stroked the expanse of Sergeant's broad forehead, fingers tracing over the diamond of white in the center of his forehead.
"Thank you," he whispered, smoothing Sergeant's forelock. His horse snorted softly and pressed his head into Dean's chest, silently asking for an ear scratch. Dean obliged, calmed by the peacefulness of the scene.
"I'll see you at dinner," he promised his stallion, patting his neck in farewell. He lifted Sammy into his arms, gave Sergeant a final pat, and left the stall, latching it behind him.
Ty was leading Paige's stallion Colby down the aisle as Dean left the stall with Sammy on his shoulder. The ranch hand tipped his hat in greeting.
"He fall asleep again?" Ty asked.
"As always," Dean replied, tilting his head at the boy, passed out on his shoulder, arm limp and swinging with his walk.
The ranch hand laughed as he passed by, toward Colby's stall at the end of the isle. "I'll be inside as soon as I finish up the grooming," he called over his shoulder.
Dean was pleased to discover that it was slightly warmer outside than it had been an hour ago. Still, though, it was bloody cold. He checked Sammy's pocket for the hat he knew would be there and pulled it onto his son's head to keep his ears warm. He counted his steps out of pure boredom as he trudged up the path to the house, up the porch steps, and into the kitchen.
Warm air greeted him. Paige glanced up from the cookie dough she was mixing, disturbed by the sudden blast of cold air. "He fell asleep again?" she guessed with a fond smile as soon as she saw Sammy slumped on Dean's shoulder.
Dean grinned and nodded, removing his and Sammy's gloves and hats. "Sarge is a better babysitter than Ally. Puts the kid out like a charm every time." He kicked off his snow boots and unlaced Sammy's one at a time, gently tugging them off his son's feet. When he couldn't get the second, Paige momentarily abandoned her cookies and walked over to unlace it and ease it off his foot, kissing the top of his head and brushing a hand over Dean's. He smiled at the caress and bent down to kiss her forehead. "I'm going to go put him down for his nap. What time is your appointment?"
"Two," Paige replied, brushing a stray lock of her hair out of her face, annoyed that it had escaped her braid. She was back with the cookie dough, spooning little balls onto a giant cookie sheet.
"With Pete or Amy?"
"Amy. It's a routine pregnancy checkup."
He nodded. "I'll be right back," he promised, heading up the stairs. He passed Ally halfway up, grabbing her arm to stop her. "Are you home this afternoon?"
"Yep." Ally smiled and patted his cheek. "I'll babysit him. It's not a problem. After all, it is your birthday."
Dean nodded again, satisfied, and continued up the stairs to Sammy's nursery. The room was familiar and near and dear to his heart. He gently lowered his son onto the changing table and stripped off his extra-warm snow clothes in exchange for Sammy's favorite dinosaur pajamas.
The next time he lifted him, Dean realized he was getting heavier. He set him down in his crib, watching him roll over onto his stomach, arms sprawled wide. "Love you, baby boy," he whispered, kissing his cheek. He cracked the nursery door behind him and headed back downstairs to the kitchen, stripping off his snow jacket as he went.
"On the hooks," Paige called from the kitchen.
He grinned and shook his head. He'd been about to drop it on the floor. She knew him too well. He did as she'd ordered before heading into the warm kitchen, rolling up his sleeves past his elbows as he went in case she needed help with anything.
Paige was just pulling the first batch of cookies out of the oven. She set the pan on a cooling pad, re-closing the oven after putting in a new pan of unbaked cookies.
"Stop drooling," she teased, tweaking his nose.
"They smell good," he defended himself, grabbing her waist to pull her towards him, kissing her neck and wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Hmm." She leaned back against him and folded her arms over his.
"So…?"
"So, what?"
"Do we want to know?"
Paige thought about it for a long time. The kitchen was silent, the only noise the occasional dull thunk from upstairs. "Yes," she said finally. "I do. You don't have to, though." She rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closed as she struggled to formulate her thoughts into words. "After all me and this baby have been through, I would like to have an idea of what to expect. I don't know. I can't really explain it."
He kissed her neck again, nuzzling the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, smiling when she gasped despite herself. "Then we'll find out," he whispered huskily. "Either way, I won't mind. But I think we may follow the Winchester tradition."
She cocked an eyebrow. "'Winchester tradition'?" she echoed.
Dean just grinned. "We'll see," he said vaguely.
"Oh, the mystery." Paige groaned and pressed her face into his neck. "For the record, you suck."
Ally appeared in the kitchen, tying her hair back. "I'll hold down the fort," she promised. "Now get going, so you aren't late."
Sharing a smile, Dean and Paige did just that.
It was a busy Saturday in the maternity ward. They signed in and then sat in the far back, waiting for their name to be called. Paige only recognized a few of the women in the room, which most likely meant that most of them were out-of-towners coming to the nearest functioning hospital outside of Cheyenne.
Thirty minutes later, she was on the table waiting for Amy, passing the time by working mentally through the schematics of a UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter.
Dean held her hand, squeezing it gently and kissing her knuckles. "What are you so worried about?"
"I want the baby to be healthy," she whispered back.
He stood to hug her, pulling her against his side. She pressed her face into the fabric of his shirt and took a deep, shuddering breath to get a hold of herself. His head snapped up when the door banged open and their harassed-looking sister-in-law entered the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
"Hey, Ame," Paige greeted her sister-in-law with a smile, holding out her arms. "Come give me a hug."
Amy stepped gracefully into the embrace. "Thank you," she sighed as she pulled away and dragged her stool to Paige's bedside. "I needed that. It's been a hell of a long day."
"Annoying people?" Paige guessed.
"Hit the nail on the head," she confirmed, starting up all the equipment. "Plus, Johnny had baseball practice this morning and Sydney isn't feeling well, and James got in a fight with the twins and hurt his head, which doesn't exactly help the stress factor very much."
"You can come over more, you know." Paige's voice was gentle. She put her hand on the doctor's arm. "You aren't alone in this. Any time you need me to watch the kids, just ask. I'd love to spend more time with them."
Amy smiled and brushed a tear from her cheek. "Thank you. Really." She cleared her throat. "Well, let's get this over with, then, so that I can go home and get the kids rounded up for Dean's party."
Paige made an expression of discomfort while Amy worked. That discomfort was forgotten the moment the monitor picked up the tiny, thrumming heartbeat and the image of their tiny baby.
She instinctively squeezed Dean's hand harder, as did he. "Wow," she breathed, her eyes filling with tears as she grinned. She grinned ecstatically at the screen, and knew her husband was feeling the same euphoria.
"There's baby Winchester," Amy said with a warm smile, squeezing Paige's other hand gently. "Do you want to know the gender?"
Dean and Paige nodded in unison.
"Congratulations, you're having another little boy," she announced with a smile. "And he looks healthy."
"Really? Promise?"
"Promise. We ran every test we could think of while you were recovering from your punctured lung. Everything came back normal. In fact, better than normal. Amazing, to be exact."
"A little boy?"
"One hundred percent positive."
Dean laughed out loud and kissed his wife with renewed joy. "I love you," he announced. Paige just laughed and closed her eyes to focus on that precious heartbeat.
Amy wiped her hands on her scrub pants. "So I'll see you two tonight," she said. "I've got idiots to take care of." She kissed Dean on the cheek and hugged Paige. "Take a few minutes to talk it over. I'll post my nurse Rosie outside so you aren't bothered."
"Thanks."
The room was silent now that the monitors were turned off. Paige put her normal clothes back on.
"Are you mad?" she asked, curious by his silence.
"About what?" Dean seemed startled by the question.
"That it's not a girl."
"Are you?"
"No, of course not."
"Then neither am I."
Paige breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you sure?" she pressed. She was staring at the ground as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world to study.
Dean grabbed her face and held on, forcing her to look at him. "Positive," he said firmly, his eyes dead serious. She nodded, and he was slightly startled when her eyes filled with tears again. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" She didn't reply, just closed her eyes. "Hormones?" he guessed.
"Partly." She sniffed but didn't open her eyes.
"And the other part?"
"It's not fair," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"What's not fair?" When she didn't answer, he sat beside her on the bed and pulled her into his arms. "Talk to me, baby. Please. What's not fair?" Unsure what else to do, he rubbed her back and prayed she wouldn't stonewall him.
"That we only get to have two."
Oh, God. This was exactly the conversation he didn't exactly want to have, but knew they needed to have it. "Is that why you're crying?" he pressed.
She nodded; he could feel it against his collar bone. "It's stupid and selfish," she said in a small voice.
He cupped her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him. "You are not selfish or stupid, Paige," he said angrily. "Don't you ever say that about yourself." He continued to rub her back when she fell silent, so silent, in fact, that the only noise he detected was that of their quiet breathing and his own steady pulse of blood rushing past his ears.
Paige sighed, startling him. She'd been quiet for a while, now. He'd sort of grown used to the silence. "I just never thought we'd be forced to stop at two, that's all. It's not fair."
"Do you want to have more than two?"
"Maybe," she said against his neck, her unusually warm cheek pressing against his neck when she shifted so that her body was closer to his. "I'd just like the choice. That's all."
Dean pulled her pretty much into his lap and shrugged. "So we'll have another," he said simply.
She looked up at him, startled. He mentally gave himself a high-five. At least she was looking at him now. "Are you forgetting that you're legally dead?" she demanded, as if she believed he'd suddenly had a screw go loose.
He shrugged again, practically tossing her in the air. "So? It's not like the FBI actually cares about me, anyway. I'm dead, remember? What reason would they have to look us up again?"
"Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but they're sort of freaks like that," she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. He praised himself again; she was acting more like herself the longer she talked, something he was thankful for. Honestly, he enjoyed their verbal sparring matches.
Dean just flashed his trademark smirk.
"So, let me get this straight. You're willing to have another child — even if you are legally dead — and damn the consequences?" Her eyebrows were so far up her forehead they were practically in her hairline. He privately thought it was adorable.
"It's the way I roll, babe," he said with a grin and a wink. She just stared at him, open-mouthed. He placed her back on the bed next to him and stood. "Now come on. There's a shitload of presents at home with my name on them." He waggled his eyebrows at her and held out his hand. "And maybe something later tonight, in celebration for your up keeping of the Winchester tradition of two sons."
Paige took a deep breath, suddenly feeling cleansed. He'd given her the option she'd wanted and soothed her fears of any restrictions. It never ceased to amaze her how well he excelled at putting people at ease. She accepted his offered hand, threading her fingers through his, and, laughing despite herself, followed him out the door.
Don't hate me, peeps. If you've seen the recent season of Supernatural, you may or may not understand, but it's sort of implied that the two sons rule is important. Don't worry. There will be another baby...just not quite the right time for her to drop in. Sorry to those I angered...but this was my plan all along. Stick with it, and you'll be happy. Promise.
To all my reviewers, thank you. You keep me inspired. ;D
PLEASE REVIEW!
The more I get, the faster I write!