A/N: Specific episodes mentioned are "Faith" and "Route 666".
Disclaimer: Only my OC's peeps…rest is Kripke's.
Revised 2 December 2014.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Strays, Demons, and Sleep Deprivation
Thunder Creek, Wyoming
January 31, 2006
"Please say you'll take them," Michael pleaded with her, his expression and tone barely a hair short of desperate. "We've been up all night with our social worker friend Clarisse Morgan trying to find a suitable foster home and no other hunting families can take them."
Paige was slightly flustered and pressed her hand to her head, attempting to soothe her whirling thoughts. Where would they sleep? What would they wear? How would she be able to take care of her own son and deal with her soon-to-be-born infant while helping to work through the trauma these two little boys had experienced? It was enough to drive anyone sane completely bonkers. They weren't even foster parents!
"We're not even foster parents!" she blurted, looking between the two of them. "Have you two completely and utterly lost your damn minds? There are background checks and paperwork and all kinds of stuff we would have to do before we could foster them!"
"Clarisse assures us she's working on it," Noah promised. "Please, Paige. They need someone who will understand. Matthew literally just turned four, he's not going to understand."
Flapping her hands, Paige half-shouted, "Okay, alright, shut up for a second and let me think."
"Okay," they said meekly, glancing at each other and back at the frazzled-looking blonde.
"I have to talk to Dean and your timing could not possibly be worse," she said unsteadily, looking back up at them as they grimaced in apology. "I say yes and I'm sure he will, too, you bastards. God, you know just what buttons to press, don't you?" The FBI agents exchanged another glance and shrugged unapologetically. "This is a big commitment and I need to talk to him about it first, before we make any big decisions."
"Okay," Michael said as his expression smoothed into one of incredible relief. He knew Dean well enough to know that he would never turn away two innocent little kids who had lived through the same experience he had. He shifted Nicholas in his arms, almost reluctant to hand over the innocent little baby to his cousin. But he settled the young child in her arms anyway.
She was startled at first but quickly relaxed, looking down silently at the one-year-old's sleeping face. "Oh, God," she breathed, feeling a familiar tug at her heart. It was the same little tug she got every time she looked at Sammy. She was falling for the boy already, and it hadn't even been five minutes yet. She just couldn't look away. His hair was curly and blonde, lighter brown than blonde in the sparse light. His eyelashes were dark and long and swept onto his rounded cheeks. She groaned inwardly. There was no way she was going to be able to give him up now, and when she glared up at Michael, he grinned as if reading her exact thoughts.
"You're holding Nicholas," he explained, pulling a folder out of his jacket and waving the folder slightly in the air. "This is all of his information." He flipped it open and skimmed the first page, frowning as he read and the words ran together. His vision was blurry from exhaustion. "Birth name Nicholas Allan Sailor. He was born January 13, 2005 in Missoula, Montana at 6:51 am," he trailed off, rubbing his eyes.
"Gimme that," Noah said, holding his free hand out. Michael gratefully handed it over and Noah skimmed the information before continuing with, "He's allergic to peanuts and penicillin and everything else you need to know is in their files."
"And the older boy?" she sighed, nodding at the sleeping form cradled in Noah's arms.
"This is Matthew Karl Sailor Junior," Noah announced, tipping his body towards her so that she could see his sleeping face — blonde hair and dark eyelashes, just like his little brother. "We drove both of them all the way down from Montana last night, hence our exhaustion. Clarisse called when she researched their backgrounds and found no living relatives." He stood up straight again, pulling the blanket closer around the boy to ward off the chill. "He just turned five, he was born January 27, 2001."
As he spoke, Matthew shifted in his arms, letting out a sleepy cough before turning his face completely into Noah's T-shirted chest. The three adults smiled at the innocence of the scene.
"Michael, what's the condition?" Paige asked, locking gazes with him. "You know me almost better than I know myself. I won't be able to give them up after I take them in. It would destroy me."
"Well I don't see any reason barring you from adopting."
"Uh… wife of a serial killer, remember? Something tells me the state might take issue."
"Former wife of a serial killer who is now dead," Michael corrected. "Besides, this entire town already vouchered for you." He grinned sheepishly. "We asked around to get fifteen letters of recommendation and a few character references. Remember, Clarisse is a hunter and knows your dad, and that Dean isn't really dead. But don't worry, she won't talk. All you have to do is jump through the necessary hoops and they'll be yours to adopt." He held up a finger. "But you do have to consent to visits from a social worker. Probably Clarisse, so Dean can be present she'll just neglect to mention so in her reports. If all goes well, you'll have no obstacles to adopt them. If that's what you decide you want to do, that is."
Paige nodded consent and held the sleeping boy closer. "The demon that was after them… did you kill it?"
"Unfortunately, no," Noah sighed. "Damn thing whooshed out before we could. Connie killed all the rest of them, though. That entire thing was awkward, too, I had to pretend that I didn't know it was Connie because Dean didn't know it was Connie. We heard about what went down in the Conclave meeting."
"Kyle is a blabbermouth," Paige muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Does this mean we don't have to lie to Dean anymore?" said Michael hopefully.
"Yeah, we can tell him the truth now," she admitted with a tone of relief.
"Thank god for that," he said with just as much relief. "I hated lying to him."
"We all did," Noah muttered, rubbing Matthew's back. "The demon that did this is still out there and we don't know why he killed their parents and orphaned them, or why they were so intent on killing these little boys."
"Which means they're still in danger," said Paige. "Just another Monday," she added in a muttered, rubbing her temple.
"So you'll probably need to change their names," Michael suggested, sensing the train of thought her mind was stuck on. "If I was you I'd do it as soon as possible so they get used to the idea. I wouldn't even recommend keeping their first names in the name anywhere, it makes them too easy to track. I've got all the pictures of them as little kids to put on the wall. Should make it easy enough, seeing as these kids were practically raised by nannies anyway. The parents aren't in any of them."
"Okay," she sighed. "You won me over. Come on in, we're making breakfast." Still holding Nicholas in her arms, she stepped back to allow them to pass, leaving Noah to close the door while she made the way to the kitchen. Goliath and Percy came through the open back door, tails wagging as they greeted the men, and curious as they sniffed the scents of the two new boys.
"They do come and go, don't they," Noah mused, reaching down to scratch the ears of the Great Dane and Mastiff.
"Yeah," she replied nonchalantly. "They usually sleep in the barn with the horses. Though we do drag them inside once a week to give them baths otherwise they smell like a pig sty."
Michael chuckled. "Uh…eew," he commented, nose crinkling with many a memory of the reeking stench of a pig sty.
Ally turned as the men entered the kitchen, eyebrows shooting up when she saw the boys. "Michael, Noah, welcome home," she greeted them. "Are those Nicholas and Matthew?" At Paige's raised eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. "Your husband isn't the only one who gets chatty after a difficult hunt, you know," she reminded her friend, shooting an amused look at the suddenly-sheepish-looking Noah.
Paige smiled slightly and shrugged to show her agreement. "Mikey, take him, would you?" she asked, passing along the sleeping boy in her arms. She blew her hair out of her face and glanced warily over her shoulder at the stairs. "I have to go wake up Dean. We'll probably be a while. We have a lot to discuss and well, it might get loud."
"If I hear shouting, should I come up armed?" Noah joked. He was pleased when he got exactly the reaction he wanted: she smiled at him, her eyes taking on their usual twinkle. Content, he sat on a barstool and hoped that Matthew wouldn't wake up anytime soon because he had no idea how he would even begin to explain this to him.
Paige gathered herself and shook her head. "Don't worry, Noah," she said calmly. "We got all the yelling out of our systems last night, I think. It will be fine. Quit being so protective."
"Yes, ma'am," he said mockingly. They both knew Noah would always be annoyingly protective and that she would continue to find it annoying until one or both of them died. Overprotective was practically Noah's middle name at this point.
Shaking her head she headed up the stairs, slipping into her room and closing the door quietly behind her.
Dean was still asleep, sprawled on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow. A shaft of light from a crack in the curtains fell across the broad expanse of his back, lighting a piece of his neck and the corner of his jaw and warming his hair. He wasn't even snoring, which was new. Not that he was much of a snorer, anyway. Usually he only snored when he was absolutely exhausted or when his nose was stuffy.
She sat down on his side of the bed, biting her lip while she thought of how to wake him. His face was turned away from the window towards her side of the bed. Knowing he wouldn't object to a gentle wake-up, she leaned down to rest her cheek on his warm shoulder blade, her breath tickling his neck.
"Dean," she whispered. His breathing pattern changed so she knew he was waking up, albeit reluctantly. She watched his brow furrow before his eyelashes fluttered and his left eye cracked open to peer sleepily at her.
"Hmph," he mumbled, turning his face into the pillow. "Whatimzit?"
"Seven twenty-five," she whispered, closing her eyes and trying to work out what exactly she was going to say to him.
"Howlongubenup?"
She cracked a smile at his case of the Morning Mumbles. "Since about six."
Dean knew he had to get up but his body wasn't agreeing with him. He felt her sit up straight when he grumbled something incoherent to the pillow, sighed, and rolled over to squint up at her. Not to say he didn't appreciate her not dumping cold water on his head, but this wakeup routine was new. He moved so that his face wasn't caught in the shaft of light, rubbing his eyes as he tried to guess what had changed. He froze with his hand over his eyes. She wasn't still mad, was she? Had she been truthful last night?
Well, of course she had...she wouldn't have said so otherwise… his mind rationalized.
Would she?
"Hey," Paige said quietly, pulling his hand away from his eyes when she noticed his body go rigid. "What's wrong?" When she could finally see his eyes, it startled her to see the muffled panic swirling in the green depths. He swallowed heavily, the hand of the wrist she held clenching into a fist. She smiled and held his face in her hands. "I meant every word, Dean. We're okay. Well maybe 'okay' isn't the right word because I have a lot to answer for, but I'm not mad and unless you lied you're not all that mad either, right?"
He relaxed and closed his eyes in relief. It took every ounce of his self-control not to jump when her lips pressed against the wrinkled furrow of his brow. "Sorry," he whispered. "Just…just a scary thought." He pulled her down next to him, still not fully awake.
Paige relaxed and allowed him to pull her down, always thankful for the comfort his nearness brought.
"So what's bothering you?" Dean wondered after a few minutes of silence and gently running his fingers through her hair. She hadn't braided it this morning, leaving it loose about her shoulders. The silky strands slid beneath his fingers and he found as much comfort in the gesture as she did.
"We need to talk," she replied quietly. When he stiffened again, she nudged his ribs with her elbow. "Relax. Poor choice of words, sorry. I'm still not all the way awake yet this whole no-coffee thing wreaks havoc on my morning routine. I meant we need to talk about what's downstairs."
That piqued his curiosity, especially because she didn't elaborate further. "Okay, I'll bite. What's downstairs?"
"Matthew and Nicholas Sailor." Paige watched his expression for any hint of change, noting the shift towards surprise and his quick glance down at her. His eyes were narrowed in both thought and confusion.
"Michael and Noah have no one else to foster them and naturally they showed up this morning and ambushed me because they know how long it takes me to wake up and that I'm not allowed to have coffee, and because they know me so well, they knew exactly which buttons to push and now I'm stuck," she explained tiredly. "I can't turn them away, Dean. I just can't."
"I know you can't, love," he sighed, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. "To be honest, I thought it would end like this. I almost brought them home with me right after we rescued them but I wasn't sure how to bring it up. I want to foster them if you want to foster them. There's just one thing, though." He paused and she looked up at him with one eyebrow raised. He couldn't resist the urge to kiss that eyebrow and smile at her before he blurted, "Would you be willing to adopt them, too? I couldn't get attached only to have to give them away. It would destroy me."
"Me, too, Dean." She shuddered at the thought of someone taking them away. "It would destroy me, too."
"Honey, are you sure? I mean, we already have Sammy, and I know you're a fantastic mother and all, but with the baby on the way…jumping from one kid to four in the same year isn't going to be easy." He pulled her closer almost unconsciously, wanting to protect her from any possible pain. "And I'm going to be on hunts until we find my dad, and Ally and Noah still have the wedding to plan, and she hasn't announced it yet but she's been acting weird and more emotional than usual so I know she's probably pregnant too, and…"
"Shh," she ordered, kissing his jaw, thankful when his tirade of worry stilled. "Everything will work out fine, Dean. My uncle had five kids under the age of ten throughout my teenage years. I'm used to juggling lots of kids at once. And they're different ages, so their needs will be different. It will be fine."
"And Sammy? How do you think he'll react to the transition of being an only child to suddenly being forced to accept one older and two younger siblings?"
"I…I don't know, Dean. He's mellow. I don't see really how it could be a problem, but he's used to being the only child, being the only one we love." She looked at his shoulder as she spoke, lost in thought. "He will probably react with jealousy…most kids who suddenly get siblings do, at first. I know Chris and I did when dad married Debbie and we all of a sudden had Travis and Carrie, too. He'll see it as competition for our affection, and he'll know that they're not his real siblings. He's smart."
"Look, Paige, as much as I want to help those kids, I just…I don't think I can expose my son to that level of emotional turmoil. I couldn't bear to see him upset. I just don't want him to feel replaced. He shouldn't have to feel that way."
"Chris and I recovered okay and I love Travis and Carrie just as much as I love Jillian, Gunnar, Lilly, and Brock," she pointed out. "It took me a while, but we were older then and completely jaded to having a mother seeing as our birth mother was such an ass."
"I'm just worried he'll think we're trying to replace him."
Paige sighed and finally looked at him, finding his expression mirroring every inner worry harbored in her heart. "Nothing could ever replace him, Dean," she said with certainty. "He's our firstborn, our baby boy. And while I would never favor one child over another, in my heart I know that there will always be a special place for him because he was the first." She sighed and dropped her head to his shoulder. "I just don't want to be the failure of a mother that my birth mother was. She got it backwards and always favored Jillian over me and Chris because she was the 'baby' of the family. And this baby…"
"You're nothing like her, Paige," Dean said, squeezing her gently so she'd look up at him. "Do you hear me? Nothing. And you never will be…so stop worrying. You remind me a lot of Debbie and we all know what a fantastic mother Debbie has been to all you Newbern kids."
She smiled faintly. "How is it that you always know what I'm really afraid of?" she mused, reaching up to smooth his sleep-mussed hair.
Dean grinned cheekily, definitely more awake than he had been ten minutes ago. "Well… I was your best friend first, remember? I'd like to think that I still am, somewhat," he said. He kissed her then, pulling away when he felt her hand fist in his hair. "But then, I'm not just your best friend, am I?"
Paige glared at him for a moment before she started laughing. "You're a tease, is what you are," she informed him, leaning away from him. He held her fast, grinning down at her.
"Damn straight, woman."
"Oh, shut up."
"Yes, ma'am." He leaned down to kiss her again, undeterred when she turned her face away. Instead he pressed kisses from her jaw line all the way to her collarbone, pausing several times beneath her ear and smiling when her breath caught every time.
"Stop it," she ordered, pulling away. He sighed, looking slightly hurt, but she patted his cheek. "Not that I don't want to, Dean, but Ally can hardly manage eight pans at once without setting the house on fire."
Dean's eyes popped open. "Ally's in the kitchen?"
"Yes, I left her down there with Noah and Michael to come wake up you, sleepyhead."
"Babe, are you serious? Ally. In the kitchen. Cooking."
Paige nodded, eyebrows raised at his apparent shock.
"Uh…alone? Am I the only one that remembers the Great Christmas Fiasco of 2001?"
"No, not alone," she corrected with a laugh, "And no, believe me, everyone will remember that particular incident until the end of time. Michael, Noah, and the boys are down there, too. Noah's handy with a spatula and Michael makes a mean scrambled egg, it will be fine. He only set a pan on fire once."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he wondered.
She shrugged. "I don't know, did it?"
"Not even a little bit." He released her and got out of bed warily, rubbing his face with both hands. "You might want to go make sure she isn't setting our house on fire." He grinned when Paige laughed. "I'll go get Sammy up. Where's Levi?"
"Still asleep, probably," Paige said over her shoulder as she headed for the door. "Sleeps like his mom."
"You mean like the dead," he corrected, quickening his pace to catch her at the door. He captured her for another quick kiss. "Good morning, by the way."
"Good morning to you, too," she laughed, untangling herself from his arms and heading down the stairs.
With a happy grin, Dean made a beeline for his son's nursery, smiling when he saw his son sprawled on his stomach staring at the door, obviously waiting for someone to come get himas he'd probably just woken up. "Hey, baby boy," he greeted him in a normal tone, grinning wider when his son jumped to his feet, beamed with joy, and stuck his arms up with one hand fisted around the foot of his teddy bear.
Dean lifted Sammy easily into his arms, kissing his cheeks loudly, making him squeal with delight. He rubbed noses with him and smiled when those little hands touched his cheeks. "Morning, boo bear," he whispered.
"Hi daddy," Sammy giggled. "Wha mommy?"
"Downstairs making breakfast," he told him, swinging him in a circle and lifting him up to blow raspberries on his stomach. "But there are two people downstairs you haven't ever met before."
"Who are dey?"
"Me, Uncle Sam, Uncle Noah, and Uncle Michael found them. They're going to be your brothers." He settled his son on the changing table so that Sammy was facing him, his feet dangling over the edge. Sammy's head tilted to one side, his green eyes curious. "We saved them, and now we're going to take care of them for a while. Is that okay with you?"
"Get brovers?" Sammy inquired, tone curious.
"Yeah, buddy."
"Baby?"
Dean shook his head. "No, not that brother, buddy. Different brothers."
"Oh," Sammy said mournfully. "When baby?"
"Not for a while, bud. But he'll get here. You just got to be patient." He poked Sammy gently in the stomach, smiling when his son giggled and swatted his hand away. "Now, what do you say we go get mommy to wrestle us up some breakfast, huh?"
Sammy nodded excitedly and squealed with delight as Dean did Superman with him all the way down the stairs. By the time he finally got to the kitchen his face was bright red from laughing and he was fully awake. As soon as Dean settled him on his hip, Sammy saw Noah and Michael and started bouncing up and down excitedly.
Dean's eyes scanned the kitchen, to find both Matthew and Nicholas awake, Matthew sitting on the chair beside Michael and Nicholas on Paige's hip, staring up at her with confusion in his eyes. He obviously had no idea who the heck she was and was trying to figure it out while Matthew was staring wide-eyed around the kitchen, confused by his surroundings.
"Heya, Sammy," Noah greeted the boy, lifting him from Dean's arms to swing him in a circle. "And how is my rambunctious little monkey this morning?"
"Hungwy!"
"Uh-oh," Noah laughed. "You should get your mommy to change that, don't you think?"
"Who dat?" Sammy asked, pointing at Nicholas, briefly forgetting his hunger.
"That's your new brother, bud," he told him quietly, walking over to stand beside his partner's cousin. From his vantage point high up in Noah's arms, it was easy for Sammy to see the other boy. Sammy and Nicholas stared at each other with equal amounts of confusion. Sammy's brow wrinkled and he stuck his arms out for his mom, his lip wobbling.
"Mommy," he cried.
Paige handed Nicholas to Noah and took Sammy from Noah's arms. Noah wasted no time passing the baby to his partner, hearing Levi and Sam's voices on the stairs. "Hey, boo bear," she greeted him, rubbing noses with him like she did every morning. "How did you sleep?"
Sammy shrugged. "Otay. Food?"
"Auntie Ally and I are working on it, buddy," Paige promised as Sam strode into the kitchen with Levi on his shoulders, giggling madly and holding fistfuls of Sam's dark hair.
"Ouch, Levi," Sam complained with a laugh, reaching up to untangle his son from his hair, lifting him down and setting his feet on the tile. "Good morning, lovely family."
"Good morning," the room chorused.
"Daddy!" Levi squealed, making a beeline for Noah and hugging him around the legs, burying his face in Noah's knee.
"What's up, wiggles?" Noah laughed, scooping the toddler up and kissing his forehead.
Sam took in the scene, blinking sleepily and rubbing his eyes, staring between Michael and Nicholas, Paige and Sammy, and Noah and Levi. "Whoa," he said, completely confused. "Am I hung over or something? When did it go from two kids to four?" It took him a second to recognize the kids. "Oh." He looked at Dean. "So…fostering them, then?"
Dean nodded. "And it will most likely end up, uh, official," he said carefully, aware that Matthew could very well understand him. "Hey, Matthew. Do you remember me?"
The boy nodded, his hazel eyes watering.
"My name is Dean," he said soothingly, crouching before the boy, reaching out to rest his palms against the bottom of Michael's shoes, for some unknown reason needing the contact. "We took you from the scary place."
Matthew didn't look scared. "Where am I?" he asked in a small voice, his lip wobbling. "Where's Nicky?"
"My friend Mike has Nicky," he explained, reaching out to lift the boy into his arms, relief flooding him when he didn't protest. He held him on his hip and turned towards Mike, making sure that he could see his brother in the tall man's arms. "He's safe. Do you remember Noah and Mike?"
"Yeah," Matthew said softly, lip still wobbling. "He picked me and Nicky up from the nice lady's house."
"He did," Dean confirmed, grabbing Matthew's blanket and wrapping it around his small form. "Let's go outside and talk for a little while, okay? There's a porch swing out there I think you'll like." He looked to his wife, still holding his son, and tilted his head towards the door. With an understanding smile, she traded Sammy for Nicholas and followed him onto the porch.
It was chilly out. There was a fresh layer of snow on the ground. He paused for a moment to study the landscape and spotted his ranch hands far off in the distance, bulky dark shapes against the all-consuming white. He made a mental note to call them in for a hot breakfast and sat down on the porch swing, settling Matthew in his lap, leaving enough room for Paige to sit beside him. "So, Matthew, this is my wife, Paige," he told the boy, reaching out to put a hand on Paige's shoulder.
"I'm going take care of you, sweetheart," Paige said gently, reaching out to squeeze his tiny hand.
"My real mommy's dead, isn't she?" Matthew said in a broken voice, staring down at his lap. "My daddy killed her, didn't he?" His expression was now terrified, tears running down his cheeks. Dean knew he'd been balancing on a precipice before, and those tears sent him over. He suddenly felt extremely protective of this lost little boy, wanting to shield him from any harm. The battle in his heart was officially lost.
Dean honestly didn't know what to say to the kid, so he just hugged him, sensing that he needed someone to hold him together. "Matt, when I was your age, I saw something that scared me, too. I saw something really bad happen to my mom. She died when I was four, and she was killed by the same thing that killed your parents."
"He had black eyes," Matthew sniffed, pressing his face into Dean's shirt. He looked up at Dean, searching his face. "Did he have black eyes for you, too?"
He shook his head. "Yellow," he whispered. "I never saw her again. My dad raised me and my baby brother to hunt and kill things like the thing that killed my mom. Like the thing that killed your mom and dad."
"Mommy said he was a demon," the boy sniffed, choking on his sobs.
"Shh," Dean soothed, pushing off of the ground so that the swing started to rock gently. "It was, Matthew. It was. And I promise that you'll always be safe here. That will never happen to you again. Ever. You and Nicholas will be safe here."
"Promise?"
"I promise," he swore with confidence, locking eyes with the boy's. He smiled when he saw mistrust swirling in Matthew's intense hazel eyes. "You'll be safe here with us. You can have your own room. We've got three dogs. I'll even teach you how to ride a horse, if you want. But you don't have to stay here if you don't want to."
Matthew looked conflicted. While he obviously trusted Dean due to the rescue, he was having problems letting his parents and old life go. "Does Nicky get to stay with me?" he asked in a surprisingly strong voice. "Cuz if he doesn't I wanna leave right now!" His face transformed into an expression surprisingly willful for such a young boy.
Paige grinned. "Nicky will stay right here, with you, me, and Dean. If you stay, you can have another little brother, Sammy," she promised him. "You never have to be separated." She looked at her husband and raised both eyebrows. Matthew reminded her of Dean, and had the same protective instinct towards his little brother.
"He gets to stay with me?"
"With you," she confirmed with a nod.
Matthew turned to look up at Dean, eyes narrowed and face deadly serious.
"With you," Dean swore, ruffling his hair. "And you can call us whatever you feel comfortable with, alright?"
The boy nodded, leaning forward to kiss Nicholas on the forehead. "Love you, Nicky," he whispered, smoothing his hair. "I'm gonna take care of you now that mommy and daddy are dead, okay?"
Dean and Paige smiled at the sight of their brotherly moment, and over how much Nicholas obviously adored Matthew. It was sweet, and at the same time, so very sad…they would never really be normal again. Hunters weren't exactly like normal people.
"There's just one more thing, Matthew," he said, bouncing his knees a bit to get the boy's attention. He waited for Matthew to give him his full attention before continuing. "We didn't get all the demons. Some of them got away." His heart tugged painfully when terror transformed the young face. "Shh, it's okay, they won't find you here. But to keep you two safe, we have to change your names. So you can pick any name in the whole world you want…just not the one you have."
Matthew looked uncertain, his brow furrowing in thought. "Will…will it protect me and Nicky?"
They nodded seriously, Paige shifting Nicholas in her arms so that he was more comfortable, as he was starting to crowd her baby bump just a bit.
"You don't have to choose right now, bud," Dean promised, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Take some time to think about it. It will be your name for the rest of your life. You'll be safer that way."
"Okay," Matthew said quietly, looking down at his hands. He was quiet for a moment. "Can I choose a name of somebody I know? Somebody special?"
"Uh…" he trailed off, unsure. "Who were you thinking?"
"Owen, I guess," the boy mumbled, shrugging. "Owen was my grandpa's name. He died when I was little. And I like Michael…and he saved me and Nicky. Can that be my new middle name?" He ducked his head, embarrassed, missing the shard smile between his new foster parents.
"Owen Michael it is, then," Paige said, cupping his chin and pulling his face up. "You're safe here, Owen. I promise."
He nodded uncertainly, tears swimming in his eyes. He wanted so badly to trust these people… he was too little to raise his baby brother by himself. And she was pretty and seemed nice, just like his momma had been. Maybe he could be safe here…the black-eyed people wouldn't get him. And he could have a dog again, and a soccer bedspread, and play all day long…and maybe Dean could be his new daddy, cuz his daddy had never been around. He'd always been out on business. He'd barely known his real daddy and mommy had always been at parties. Maybe, just maybe, he'd fit in here…his heart jumped at the thought of finally having a real family…
"Now, you must be hungry," she said gently, tweaking his nose. "Let's see what Ally is cooking up for us inside, shall we?"
Owen. The name washed over the little boy like a wave, and he hesitated a moment. He could be Owen. It'd be like being a superhero, taking a new name and all that. Excitement started to bubble up as he thought of being free to play without a nanny bossing him around. He hesitated a moment at his foster mom's question before grinning, jumping off Dean's lap and heading slowly into the kitchen.
Dean sighed in relief and laid his head on the back of the swing. "That went over way better than I thought it would," he muttered, pulling her into his side and smiling down at the top of Nicholas' curly-haired head. "Took it like a pro, though I can tell he's freaked." He sighed. "So what do you want to name this little one?"
Paige shrugged — carefully — and blew her stray hair out of her face. "Always liked the name Brody," she commented. "Very rugged and manly." She smiled up at him. "With Keith for a middle name. That's my dad's middle name. It'll make him feel special when he grows up."
He leaned down to kiss her. "Brody Keith it is," he agreed. "Now let's go inside and make sure Mat—Owen is okay with it. I'm freezing." He marveled at the fact that these kids were as good as adopted into his family and shuddered at the thought of paperwork. Paperwork was something he despised.
She got to her feet and didn't protest when Dean took Brody from her arms, holding the boy up at his shoulder. Wide green-blue eyes stared up at his face, before he seemed to accept this new mentor and slumped down on his shoulder, his thumb shoved in his mouth.
/
Dean now had a five-year-old son and he had no idea what the hell to do with him.
To be fair, they'd only had him for about four hours but he was reaching epic levels of panic. Objectively, he should know what to do with him. Johnny was six and he always knew what to do with Johnny, but he figured that was probably because he'd known the kid since he was born.
Owen was a mystery. Johnny couldn't keep a straight face to save his life, while Owen was stoic and hardly had any expression at all. Johnny loved soccer and horses, Owen didn't seem all that interested in sports or horses. Alex was a wild man who hardly, if ever, stood still. It was a miracle when they managed to get the kid dressed in clothes that were the right side out and right way around, never mind getting the little devil to put shoes on. He was fascinated with anything that flew and was convinced that football was the best thing ever because his dad played it and Owen seemed afraid of everything. Though, considering the events of the last couple of days that wasn't exactly surprising.
It made him feel really shitty that he was comfortable with Johnny and Alex, but with this new little boy he felt uncomfortable because he had no idea what to do with him.
He wondered what Bobby had done about him.
And then cursed himself for being an idiot, because of course Bobby would have ideas. He'd had to deal with him and Sam after their mom died and their dad went postal, after all.
After breakfast he left his family to bond and excused himself briefly, heading out into the yard while the phone rang.
"What?" Bobby snapped in lieu of greeting.
"Hey, Bobby," he said in a conversational tone, long used to the man's seemingly harsh language. He'd learned long ago that Bobby was all bark and no bite when it came to him and Sam.
"What do you want this time, ya idjit?" Bobby demanded, but he could hear the affection behind the words.
Dean couldn't help but smile because he'd always loved Bobby. Hell, he'd been at his and Paige's wedding when his dad or Sam couldn't have even been bothered to pick up the damn phone. "Got a question for you," he said with a heavy sigh.
"Sounds serious," the older man mused, no doubt picking up on the grave tone. "How can I help? Family trouble?"
"Kind of, but not in the way you're thinking," Dean admitted as he glanced up and realized he'd strolled all the way to the paddocks. He brushed the snow off the fence rail and lifted himself onto it, kicking his feet against the rail below and watching the snow scatter and fall to the ground. The horses hadn't been turned out yet so he didn't have to worry about them knocking him over or trying to eat his hair again. "See, there was this case up in Montana recently."
"Yeah, Seeley Lake. Noah called to bitch about it," grunted Bobby. "By his account it was rough."
"It was," he agreed, fiddling with one of the buttons on his leather jacket. "The parents were killed by demons and their sons were orphaned."
"Ah," Bobby said with the air of someone who had just put all the pieces together and reached a moment of clarity. "So they brought them to Paige because that girl couldn't turn a stray away if her life depended on it."
Dean had to laugh a little at that because it was true; his wife tended to have a giant heart when it came to anything small and needy, be it a barn kitten or a child. "Basically," he said. "I couldn't turn them away either, Bobby. As soon she told me, as soon as I saw them, I just…" Frustrated, he cut himself off, not sure how to continue.
"Wanted to help them," the other hunter filled in for him with an uncharacteristically gentle tone.
"I saw myself in them, Bobby. Especially Owen. He's only a year older than I was."
"I'm not surprised you did, Dean. You've always had a big heart, ever since you were a little guy."
"I just wanted to call and see if you had any advice for me. I have no idea what I'm doing," he admitted and it astonished him how light he suddenly felt. He hadn't realized that worry had been weighing on him so heavily, even just for a couple of hours. "I know what to do with Johnny and Alex, but I have no idea what to do with this kid, Bobby. I have no idea how to help him."
Bobby pondered that for a while and went so quiet he wondered for a moment or two if his pseudo-father figure had hung up. When he spoke again, Dean actually startled at the volume after so long a stretch of peaceful silence. "You didn't want to talk," he said slowly, as if still piecing together the words in his mind. "In fact, you hardly breathed a word for almost a year. Not that I blamed you, seeing what you saw. I just tried to be patient with you, give you things to occupy your time. You liked to do things with your hands and you loved spending time with that damn dog. You really loved it when I let you do things. The dam broke the day I taught you how to make grilled cheese with macaroni and I later found myself wondering why I'd wished so hard that you would talk because after that you wouldn't shut the hell up."
Dean couldn't help but laugh softly at the befuddlement in Bobby's voice, even after all these years. "I remember that day," he admitted. "Vaguely, but I do."
He remembered the smell of Bobby's aftershave and the rough texture of his calloused palm holding his hand steady as he flipped the grilled cheese; could recall with stunning clarity the slight hiss of the butter as it browned the bread in the pan. It had been snowing and Bobby's Rottweiler at the time, Ajax, had been nudging them with his cold, wet nose in hopes that they would give him a treat. Bobby had cut the crust off for him and it had been the safest he'd felt since his mother had died. His dad had picked them up a week later and he'd never really felt like that again until he stumbled upon Thunder Creek.
"You were always on the quiet side, Dean," Bobby told him with considerable warmth in his tone. "Just be patient with him. Try to get through to him but don't push. Let him decide when he's comfortable and just…just give him what he needs, even if he doesn't ask for it."
His shoulders relaxed, the tension bleeding out of him. "I'm afraid I'm going to fuck this up," he admitted quietly.
"You won't, Dean. I've know you for years and you've got the heart of a damn lion."
Touched, he coughed to hide a sniff and said, "Thanks, Bobby. I feel better now."
"Good. Now stow the touchy-feely shit and tell me about the blackdog incident, Noah mentioned something about you falling down a mineshaft and I need confirmation for my blackmail purposes," Bobby said with considerable amusement, rapidly switching topics away from emotions because both of them tended to suck at expressing them.
Dean chatted with him for about fifteen more minutes before he hung up and headed back inside, blowing on his fingers in hopes of warming them though it was essentially futile with the way the wind was blowing. It was a relief to get back indoors, where it was warm.
"You okay?" Paige asked him softly from where she was tossing clothes in the dryer. Dean wordlessly reached around to help her and nodded, bending down to kiss the side of her head.
"Just needed some advice from Bobby," he told her as he bumped her out of the way with his hip. "Go sit down and relax, I've got this."
"I am capable of doing laundry."
"Never said you weren't," Dean shot back easily and with a knowing smirk. "However, a little bird informed me that it does take an awful lot of energy to grow a baby." He shot a significant look at her midsection. "So, scoot your cute self into the other room and chat with Noah and Mike. I'll do the laundry this time."
Paige didn't need to be told twice, but she did hug him from behind for a long moment, nestling her face between his shoulder blades. "I love you," she told him seriously.
He reached down to squeeze one of the hands she had pressed against his chest. "Love you, too," he said, kissing her palm before he turned and gently nudged her towards the living room. "Go make sure they're not setting things on fire."
She rolled her eyes and smiled, but she did as he asked so that at least was a small comfort. Frowning, he turned his attention to the dryer and its multiple knobs and dials.
"Oh boy," he said to himself, closing the door and figuring it couldn't be that hard to figure out, right?
/
"You shrank literally every shirt that was in that load," Paige told him exasperatedly, holding what had used to be one of her workout shirts and now resembled a shirt for an eight year old. Okay, she was exaggerating a bit, but it had gone down at least a size. "How is that even possible?"
Dean grinned sheepishly and pulled on a pair of wool socks, shrugging as he said, "At least I didn't turn all of our sheets red, right?"
Huffing, Paige tossed the shirt back in the laundry basket and shook her head. "You are unbelievable sometimes, Dean," she said but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her lips so he didn't take it personally.
"Is there a way to un-shrink clothes?" he wondered, voice muffled because he was halfway through taking off his shirt.
"Oh sure, I'll just call my fairy godmother and ask for an un-shrinking spell," she deadpanned.
"I knew we shouldn't have watched Cinderella," he sighed mournfully. "Ally is such a bully."
"At least it put the boys to sleep," she snorted. "And Mat—Owen," she corrected herself, "Seemed to really enjoy it. He spent the entire time we were getting ready for bed asking me if mice could really talk."
Dean had finished his nighttime routine and gratefully slipped under the covers. It had been a long and exhausting few days and all he wanted to do was curl up with Paige and sleep. They'd let Owen pick which room he wanted after breakfast and had promised to take him into town the next day so he could pick his furniture, paint, and decorations. As of now he was in the room Alex usually slept in when he visited. Overall the day had gone well, though Owen hadn't spoken much and hadn't let Brody out of his sight, not even for their nap time which he spent sleeping on a mat on the floor next to his little brother's crib.
"Sammy seems to be adjusting okay," Paige said seriously as she clicked off the light and slid in beside him, grateful for the fact that their mattress felt like sleeping on a cloud.
"He's a smart kid," he sighed as he rolled towards her and curled around her, tucking her back against his chest and exhaling gratefully. "Owen seemed really quiet, though."
"It will take him a while to adjust," she whispered, already half asleep.
"Hmm," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. It was the last thing he remembered until a bloodcurdling scream jarred him out of a solid sleep. Flailing, he had his fingers grasped around the knife he kept in his bedside table before he was even aware that he was awake.
Paige was awake as well, eyes wide and alarmed.
He got out of bed, his feet padding on the rug as he slipped out the door into the hall. For a moment he wondered if someone was being murdered, but knew it was unlikely because the dogs would have warned them long before now. Paige was a few steps behind him, not even bothering to argue that she could hold her own just as well.
Dean was obstinately overprotective whenever she was pregnant. It was slightly endearing but mostly annoying.
There was whimpering coming from Owen's room, small hitching broken sobs that caused her to gently push past Dean and open the door wide enough to spot Owen curled into a ball on the floor and shaking with his sobs.
"Oh, baby," she whispered as she fell to her knees and scooped him up, holding him tight. "It's okay, you're safe now."
Owen pressed his face into her neck and trembled but he didn't say a word. Unsure what else to do, she gently rubbed soothing circles into his back and kissed the crown of his hair softly.
Dean crouched beside her, resting a head on the boy's blond hair and rubbing his fingers gently into his scalp. "Did you have a bad dream?" he murmured, discreetly tucking the knife out of sight so as to not frighten him further.
Sniffing, Owen nodded and hugged Paige tight. "It was scary," he whispered.
"I bet," Paige agreed as she lifted him back into his bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Owen shook his head and mashed his face into his pillow, still shaking.
"How about I tell you a story instead?" Paige whispered as she sat beside him on the bed, fingers still smoothing gentle circles on his back. She waited for him to nod and smiled softly, briefly contemplating which story to tell before settling on one of her personal favorites. "Once upon a time in a kingdom known as Camelot, there lived a prince named Arthur. . ."
/
Twenty minutes later, Dean softly closed the door to Owen's bedroom and smiled fondly down at his wife as he pulled her into his side. Amused, he poked her in the side and raised an eyebrow as he said, "King Arthur? Really?"
"One of my favorites," she admitted with a grin. "How can you go wrong with Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table? Chris and I absolutely loved them when we were his age."
Dean's smile faded slightly at the mention of his best friend and her brother, lost to them forever. "Doesn't surprise me," he said quietly. "Chris was always a King Arthur type of guy."
"That he was," she agreed, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Come on, let's get back to bed."
"Should we be worried about his nightmares?" Dean wondered as they were getting settled under the covers.
"I'd say it's normal," she yawned, wincing at the clock. The green numbers were displayed at 04:12, meaning they would be up in a little over an hour and a half. Sammy was up at six on the dot every morning without fail.
Dean silently agreed, though he was worried. "Tomorrow, we should see if he'll talk to us," he murmured, already half asleep.
"Good plan," she responded. Silence fell and they were both sleeping peacefully a few moments later.
Thunder Creek, Wyoming
February 8, 2006
Dean grumbled and rolled over, hand slapping the surface of his bedside table searching for the annoying buzzing hindrance to his previously uninterrupted sleep. He and Sam had just gotten back from a quick two-day hunt in Nebraska and it had been an odd one, seeing as he'd ended up electrocuting himself and permanently damaging his heart.
They'd given him a month to live and he hadn't even had the guts to tell Paige before Sam was dragging him to some faith healer in Nebraska. As it had turned out, the healer — Roy Le Grange — or rather, Roy's wife, had been using black magic in the form of a reaper to bring people back to life. To do so, the reaper killed an innocent person.
He should be in a hospital bed dying right now but Roy had 'healed' him. Saved his life, at the expense of a swimmer, only a few years his senior and with his own life, too. The thought still made him sick, that something out of his control had exchanged his life for another's like that. He'd met a nice girl, Layla, and now she was going to die while he got to live. The thought immediately soured his already poor mood.
Fate was a bitch.
And goddamn it, where was his phone, already? He continued slapping his hand across the wooden surface, searching for the damn nuisance.
On the bright side, he was alive again. No heart problems. At all. Which basically meant he'd come home, perfectly healthy and well, to his son, his two fostered children, and his beautiful wife. He'd played with the boys all day (Levi included, of course), and had been happy to find that Owen and Brody were so far adjusting slowly but well to their new lives and family and that Sammy generally enjoyed their company, so long as his routine wasn't disrupted. Owen hadn't had a nightmare since the first night, and while he refused to talk about it he was starting to open up little by little.
Life was the same as always for his son, just with two extra brothers added on. That night, he'd poured his heart out to his wife about the case, including every heart-wrenching detail, needing her comfort more than he cared to admit. Then, of course, he'd loved her until they both passed out from exhaustion.
Now that thought made a smile curve his lips. His searching fingers finally touched the edge of the phone, and he snapped it open and held it up to his ear.
"'Lo?" he mumbled, voice think and heavy with sleep.
"Dean?"
His eyes snapped open, adrenaline surging through his blood. Now, that was a voice he thought he'd never hear again. Fully awake now, he sat up, rubbing his face. "Uh, hello," he said, clearing his throat several times in hope of lessening the roughness of it. He was at a loss for what to say after that. She must have taken his shocked silence as invitation and continued speaking in a shaking voice that broke several times in the same sentence.
"I-It's Cassie Robinson." A sob broke through on the phone line. "My dad…he died last night. And…and I think it has something to do with what you told me before we broke up." Her breath hitched. "Can…can you help me?"
"Uh…" he trailed off, rubbing his face. "You still live in Cape Girardeau, Missouri?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised, stifling a yawn.
"Oh, thank you, Dean!" she cried.
"Sure. See you soon." He hung up, staring down at the phone. Huh. He'd just agreed to help his ex-girlfriend. He scanned his room, slightly startled to find his wife's side of the bed empty. Grabbing the knife from under the pillow, he set out to investigate, not really startled, just…cautious. He needed to wake up Sam, anyway.
The door to Owen's room was cracked and light was spilling into the hallway. He pushed the door open carefully, peering inside to find Owen awake and curled up in his wife's arms crying his eyes out while she sang softly in his ear.
"Nightmare," she breathed softly, and he realized that the boy was crying even in his sleep. "Scared me half to death. He sleepwalked into our room. Didn't you hear him?"
"No," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead. He sat beside her and rubbed her back. As much as he longed to comfort his foster son himself, he didn't have time. He had to get going; Cassie had sounded totally freaked. "I just got a phone call from an old acquaintance. Sam and I have to head out for Missouri right away."
"What happened?"
"Dunno yet, she didn't say," he whispered back, kissing her shoulder when a frown appeared on her face. "Don't worry. Ex-girlfriend from a long time ago. She thinks her father was murdered by a spirit of some kind."
Paige smiled and hugged him with one arm. "Then you better go get Sam and be off," she told him. "Spirits don't usually have timetables for killing."
"You trust me," he said with a huge grin, kissing her again.
"Duh, why else do you think I married you?" she teased, playfully pushing him and managing to not disturb Owen in the process. "And let you knock me up? Twice?"
He snorted and kissed her a third time, unable to stop himself. Even after years of marriage, he still loved the way she smelled, the way she tasted, the warmth and softness of her lips. Aaaand, if he didn't get off that particular train of thought right this second, things would end badly in the sense that he would drag her back to their room for round six. Mentally shaking himself, he kissed her goodbye, and then leaned down to kiss the top of Owen's head.
"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised. "Will you be okay?"
"I have dad, Jared, and Elliot to help. Don't worry about me. Go."
Reluctantly, he left them there, closing the door gently behind him and tried to block out the memory of Owen's tear-streaked face. As he did every single time he left, he entered Sammy's nursery to kiss him goodbye, writing him a note on the pad on the wall so Paige could read it to him in the morning. He closed that door softly behind him before doing the same for Brody, even though the little guy couldn't understand it, anyway.
When he pushed open the door to Sam's room he found his brother awake and staring at the ceiling. Ally and Noah had left to go home the day before and he probably hadn't been able to fall asleep knowing his son was so far away from him. He glanced up at Dean's entrance and sighed.
"Hunt?" Sam guessed, excitement surging to replace the depression of knowing he wouldn't see Levi again for a while.
Dean nodded. "Missouri. I'm guessing ghost. I'll explain on the way. I'll be downstairs finding something to eat in the car. Meet me in the kitchen."
/
The interior of the Impala was dark and quiet, the brothers silently sipping their coffee as the car roared towards Missouri. It was going to be a long drive, but both hoped they'd get halfway there before sunrise, depending on weather and traffic.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam asked after two hours of this silence.
"Hmm?" Dean replied, not feeling like talking. Too damn early.
"Does it ever get easier? Leaving them, I mean?"
Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes for the millionth time, glancing at his brother's brooding expression out of the corner of his eye.
"No, Sam," he sighed. "It doesn't."
"That's what I thought."
He didn't exactly need to reply to his little brother's rhetorical statement, so he didn't.
"So…this Cassie girl." Sam glanced over at his brother, catching his stony expression and sensing sensitive waters. "Tell me about her."
Dean groaned inwardly.
So much for their quiet car ride.
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