A/N: Okay, so, the last was a bit of a filler. This one had some action…and some cutsie moments… and as usual, some drama. You better read this yourself. Bye!

Disclaimer: Only own my OCs. This is Kripke's sandbox. I'm just building myself a nice fortified sandcastle. :P

WARNING: Some bad language in here, folks... sorry, but angry ppl tend to cuss... :)


Chapter Twenty-Eight
Oh The Cranky Lot

Thunder Creek, WY
March 28, 2006

Sam pushed himself off the ground and glared at Connie. "Hey," he mumbled to his older brother and sister-in-law, not quite willing to forgive him for leaving him in Cheyenne. "Was that necessary, demon?"

"That's half-demon to you, pup," Connie snarled, her defensive nature in full swing.

"Who did you find?" Dean cut in, his voice hard. "Who did you kill?"

"Relax, pretty boy, I only killed the demon," she snapped, looking to Paige for help and finding her busy restraining her "better half" from launching himself off the stallion and at her. Well, at least that was helpful.

"How do you only kill a demon?"

"Oh, I dunno, exercise it with my awesome mind powers?" Connie snapped, sarcasm thick in her words. "Jesus. You two act like I'm the devil or something."

"You're a DEMON!" Sam roared, shoving at her. He was slightly surprised when something grabbed his arm and threw him to the side. He looked up to see Sergeant dancing in a tight circle, ears flat against his skull, his glittering eyes fixed on him. Great. Now the stallion was out to get him. Just perfect. "Can you CONTROL that damn thing?"

"This damn thing is my horse, Sam, and his name is Sergeant," Dean growled. "He's a friend and a work partner. He's not meant to be a pet that I can control. Jesus." He continued spinning Sergeant in circles, knowing that the beast wouldn't disobey; his loyalty was too strong. "And at least he's loyal. He'd never betray me. And he listens, if not through my words, then through my body language."

"And as I said, I'm only half demon!"

"You're a goddamn DEMON!" Sam bellowed, going for Connie again. He grunted when something slammed into his chest – Dean's boot, though not of his own fault, because Sergeant had been trying to kick him and Dean had spun him the other way at the last minute.

"You ALREADY said that! And I'm only HALF!" Connie screamed, slamming Sam's cheek with her closed fist, rocking his head back. "So back the fuck off, demon boy! At least I don't have visions like some freak!"

"How do you know about that?"

Connie pointed at herself. "Half-demon!" she shouted. "You are so friggin' dense it's not even funny!" She threw her arms up. "All you Winchesters! Well, you know what? I wash my hands of this madness." She turned her back on them and stalked off towards the ranch house.

"Get back here!" Sam bellowed, chasing after her.

Dean cursed under his breath. "Hello, drama," he sighed, kicking Sergeant to a canter and holding tight to Paige, who had been strangely silent through the entire exchange, most of her attention diverted to keeping him from killing Connie. He cut his idiot of a brother off before he could punch Connie again and probably end up getting himself killed. Though, he experienced slight satisfaction when the impact from Sergeant's powerfully muscular shoulder knocked Sam flat on his ass.

"Hey!" he bellowed to get their attention.

"Both of you calm down," Paige ordered, trusting Dean would behave himself so it was safe to divert her attention elsewhere. "Sam! Quit trying to punch her! Come on!"

Connie and Sam vaulted over the wooden fence, continuing to shout at each other in Dean and Paige's front yard. They shoved and yelled and blocked each other's punches.

Dean finally got the gate open and heeled Sergeant through, closing it before urging his horse towards the shouting pair. He dismounted as soon as he was close and tackled Sam like a linebacker. The impact made him grunt, but he rolled off his brother and came face-to-face with Connie.

"Chill out," he ordered calmly, glaring down at her. It was a relief when Connie growled but stepped back and crossed her arms. "Let's talk about this like mature, respectable adults. Sammy!"

"What?" Sam grumbled, crossing his arms and scowling, looking away from the group.

"Apologize for attacking her."

"I'm not a two year old, Dean! Quit ordering me around, I'm sick of it!"

Dean forced himself to stay calm. "Sam, you are acting like a two-year-old. Maybe if you weren't, we wouldn't have a problem!"

Sam huffed but didn't reply, glaring daggers at Dean now.

Paige nudged Sergeant forward so that he stood beside Dean, which wasn't a problem because that's where the stallion wanted to stand, anyway. "Samuel Winchester," she said in a commanding tone. "Knock off the bullshit this instant, go inside and kiss your wife, and give your son a hug. He was destroyed when you didn't come home with Dean and cried for almost a half an hour." She glared at him before she looked at Connie and her expression softened. "Constance – thank you for bringing Sam home, and Dean can you please take your horse before he decides he doesn't like me anymore?"

Dean reached up to grab Sergeant's halter, rolling his eyes. "He's not going to buck you off with me standing right here," he assured her. "He may be an ass but he's not stupid." He looked back at Connie, gritting his teeth. "Thank you, for bringing him home…and for killing that demon."

Connie smiled, the first real smile she'd issued in their presence. It made her blue eyes sparkle with warmth as her expression softened to human. "How'd those words taste comin' outta your mouth, Winchester?" she wondered, a smirk tilting her lips now.

"Like acid," he admitted, a chuckle escaping. Well, he'd decided, maybe Connie wasn't completely evil after all. Still though…didn't like her. But he'd tolerate her, for Paige's sake. He looked up at his wife. "You need help?"

"I'm not an invalid, Dean," she sighed, sliding off the stallion's back. "But thanks anyway." She hooked an arm through Connie's. "Come on, Con. There's breakfast inside. It's the least I can do to make up for Sam's antics."

"Well, he is annoying as hell…and I do like your breakfasts, sometimes, anyway…"

Paige dragged her into the house, leaving Sam and Dean glaring at each other on the lawn. "Hey, Al, look who the cat dragged in," she announced as they entered the kitchen. Ally looked up from scrubbing plates in the sink as they entered and offered Connie a bright smile. Connie stood beside the door, her wide-eyed gaze sweeping over the kitchen. She'd never seen it in daylight before – and she'd also never seen it jam-packed with kids, like it was now.

"Mommy, mommy! Look, I finished my breakfast!" Owen called, standing up in his chair and holding up his syrup-slathered plate. "I ate it all!"

"Good job, buddy," Paige said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. She took the plate from him and put it in the sink. "Owen, can you say hi to Connie?"

Owen stared up at her, wide-eyed. He jumped off his chair and grabbed Paige's pant leg, standing close to her, his arm half-wrapping around her thigh. "Hello," he whispered, looking down at his feet.

"Oh, don't be shy," Paige told him, rubbing between his shoulder blades. "Connie, this is Owen, and the little guy in the high chair is – "

Connie jumped when something smacked her forehead and stuck there. She reached up and pried it off, staring down in shock at the cheerio in her hand. Her eyes moved to the high chair, where Brody was giggling and slapping his tray with both hands, his feet kicking in excitement.

"– Brody," Paige finished, hiding a smile behind her hand. "Sorry, uh…he likes to use cheerios for target practice."

"Charming," Connie grumbled, tossing the cheerio in the trash and adopting a sour expression.

"You gotta remember to duck," Ally offered. She wiped her hands on a towel and reached down to pick up her son, settling him on her hip. "Say hi to Connie, Levi."

Levi waved cheerfully. "'Lo," he said, clapping his hands when Ally tickled his ribs.

"So where'd you come from, Connie?"

"Around," Connie shrugged. "I…uh… k-i-l-l-e-d the d-e-m-o-n who…uh, did you-know-what to you-know-who's parents."

"Thanks, Connie. For not saying it out loud," Paige said quietly, picking up Brody and settling the baby on her hip, using the washcloth to wipe his hands and face. She looked down at her son, who was pouting and staring at his plate, fork forgotten in his hand.

"And that's Sammy." Paige nodded to the table, where her son was sitting in front of a plate with two bites left. "Samuel Dean, eat the last two bites and you can get up from the table."

"Mooooooooooommy," Sammy whined, pouting down at his two remaining bites. "Doh wanna."

"Here, mommy will help," she sighed, eating one of the two remaining bites. "Now eat that one."

Sammy obliged, handing her his plate while he was still chewing. "Down?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, Sammy, you may get down," she said, putting the plate in the sink. "There's pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage on the stove if you want some, Connie." She turned to Ally. "Just so you know, S-a-m got home compliments of Connie about three minutes ago."

Ally's eyes brightened. "Home? Outside?" she said hopefully.

"Yeah, outside. He's…fighting with Dean."

She rolled her eyes. "Greeeeeeeat," she grumbled, palming her face with her free hand. She put Levi down. "Guess what, Lee?"

"Wha?" Levi said, face lighting up with excitement.

"Go look outside and see who's there!"

Levi ran to the door and dragged it open, going out onto the porch. He stopped at the top of the porch steps, one hand holding tight to the post beside him. He squinted for a minute against the light, and the minute he saw Sam, he inhaled sharply in excitement and stumbled down the steps, setting off at as fast of a run as possible across the lawn towards the towering dark-haired Winchester. Dean was standing in front of him, squared off toe-to-toe about four feet from his younger brother, Sergeant standing quietly by his side like a sentry... or, considering how his ears were pinned flat to his scull, maybe a bodyguard.

Ally followed at a jog, hoping Sam wouldn't do something stupid. She watched as Levi neared the pair.

Sam was quivering, he was so mad. "That's not the point, Dean," he was saying – well, yelling, really. Ally moved quicker, recognizing the anger in her fiancé's voice. "The point is that dad is nowhere to be found and we're sitting her playing homemaker on your farm."

"Ranch!" Dean corrected harshly. "It's a ranch, Sam, not a farm. Jesus!"

Levi was grinning from ear to ear and ran up beside his dad, jumping up and down with excitement. He reached up to tug Sam's pants.

Either Sam didn't feel it, or he chose to ignore it. Ally quickened her pace further.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" Levi chanted, tugging harder on his pants.

"What?" Sam roared, looking around. He looked down, immediately feeling bad when he beheld the sight of his almost-two-year-old standing frozen with a quivering lip. "Oh, hey, buddy!"

Levi's lip continued to quiver, a fat tear slipping down his cheek. "Daddy," he said in a very small voice.

Sam scooped him up and kissed his cheek. "Daddy's sorry, bud, you startled me," he explained, kissing Levi's other cheek. He gave him a little squeeze. "How're you?"

He said nothing, just leaned away from him and stuck his arms out for Ally, who lifted him to her hip. A flash of hurt crossed over Sam's face before it smoothed over again.

"Hey, Ally," he said somewhat lamely.

"Samuel," Ally replied, holding tight to her now sobbing son. "Any particular reason why you roared at our son?"

"I…"

"He didn't mean it, Al," Dean said hurriedly, not wanting his brother to be in hot water with his fiancé as well as everyone else. "Why don't you take it inside, and I'll be in after I put Sergeant in the paddock, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Ally agreed coldly, turning on her heel and heading back to the house.

"Look, Ally, I said I was sorry, okay?" Sam said, hurrying to catch up with her. "I just…" His voice faded off as Ally slammed the door in his face.

"What a crazy family, huh boy?" Dean said tiredly, rubbing his eyes. He smiled when Sergeant snorted and bobbed his head up and down as if in agreement. "Yeah, I think so too. Come on, let's put you in the paddock."

He led his stallion away, temporarily leaving the craziness of his family behind in favor for the peaceful quiet of the paddocks.

xxx

Back in the house, Paige was busy wiping off the mouths of her three young sons, forcing herself to remain calm during their fidgeting. "Hold still, please," she said patiently, scrubbing syrup off Owen's cheeks. She lightly smacked his leg when he made a face at her. "Do not make faces at me, Owen Michael. The longer you hold still, the quicker I'll finish." She finally finished and lifted Owen down from the counter.

Dean came back in, rubbing his face. As soon as they saw him, Owen and Sammy ran over to hug him again, voices loud and excited, grins on both of their faces as Dean bent to lift them both into his arms.

Connie watched with fascination from her seat at the bar, her plate piled high with food and balanced on her knee. Transferring the plate to the actual countertop, she stabbed her fork into the pell-mell mixture of breakfast items and watched Dean as he went into…Daddy-mode.

Pissed, angry, ominous, regal, dangerous, furious, protective, fierce, relentless, merciless, stoic – all applied to this man. Sam, even with his greater height, couldn't come close to the intimidation factor. He pretended to be what came to Dean naturally, instinctually. There was just something about Dean that transferred what he needed to say without actually having to say anything – his body language was so strongly represented it made her super-sensitive senses twang uncomfortably.

But as a "Daddy"? Seeing Dean acting so…normal, soft, kind…it was like she was looking through to a parallel dimension. As soon as that thought dawned, she quickly checked that she was in fact not accidentally in a parallel dimension – and as soon as she confirmed she was in the proper place, she relaxed and observed the show. They were so busy with their morning routine that the Winchesters didn't even seem to notice, or had forgotten, that she was sitting there.

"So what's the plan today?" Ally asked as she stalked into the kitchen and put Levi down, watching him run off into the family room after Owen, probably to grab his favorite stuffed teddy bear. She pushed away her fury at her fiancé and gave him the cold shoulder when he came through the doorway looking immensely guilty, Dean sending him a hard look over his shoulder, having given him quite the scalding lecture on not raising voices around young kids while still outside when he'd caught Sam hovering on the porch.

"We're going out to a lunch with Amy and the kids; Elliot, Lisa, and Abby; my dad; and Jared and Rachel," Paige said nonchalantly, reaching up to touch Dean's face. A moment of silent communication passed between them and she smiled. He kissed her hand and held it against his face before releasing it and leaning back against the counter.

"That should be fun," Ally said as she handed Connie a plate, apparently not noticing she already had one piled high with food. Connie set it silently under the plate she already had and continued to observe with one eyebrow cocked sardonically. Ally left her and began to clean up the table, leaving one plate for Sam, should he decide to eat. At the moment, she couldn't really find the energy to care. She glared at him for good measure – he was currently standing against the wall, looking awkward and out of place with an expression of guilt fixed upon his features.

"Dean, can you take Owen and Brody and get their teeth brushed and their clothes on?" Paige asked as she removed Brody's bib and tossed it in the washing machine. As she spoke she held Brody out to him, knowing he wouldn't refuse.

"Sure," Dean replied, settling the baby on his shoulder. "Hey, you," he said cheerfully, play-chewing on Brody's cheek. Keeping hold of his hands, he set him on the ground and let him hold onto his fingers. "Come on, Owen. Let's go get dressed."

Owen paced along beside him, babbling excitedly about all the things he'd done since Dean had left. He didn't even seem frustrated that Brody's baby steps were so slow and wobbly.

"Hey, buddy, why can't Brody walk yet?" he asked Owen when he stopped to take a breath.

"Oh, he can," Owen told him, practically skipping in excitement at the opportunity to educate his dad. "He's just wobbly, is all. Watch, let go of his hands."

Dean tried to, but Owen's grip was like a vise. Suddenly struck by an idea, he felt around in his pockets, finding the two paperclips he'd put in their earlier. It took a few moments, but he eased the paperclips in place of his fingers and stepped back.

Brody wobbled for a minute, but he moved forward with a steady determination, his stance super wide to compensate for his unsteadiness. He toddled along until he reached the stairs, where he abruptly sat down and turned partway around to look at Dean.

He just picked him up and walked up the stairs, setting him back on his feet and watching him walk again. The biggest grin spread across his face as he ruffled Owen's hair. "Well, would ya look at that." He felt the same surge of pride pass through him as when Sammy had taken his first steps.

"Told you so," Owen said, rolling his eyes. He ran ahead to his room to brush his teeth. While he was doing that, Dean took Brody into his room and quickly changed his diaper before putting him in a long-sleeved black T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. The entire time Brody held tight to the paperclips.

"Are we going outside today, daddy?" Owen asked, appearing in the doorway bare-chested and clad only in underwear and jeans. He was holding a T-shirt in one hand and a long-sleeved button-up shirt in the other.

"Well, I was going to do something special on Friday," Dean admitted. "It's a surprise. But we're going to go into town for dinner with the family since it's nice outside, so put on the long-sleeved shirt for me, okay?"

"Okay," Owen said, doing so just then, carefully buttoning up his shirt. "Daddy, how do I tuck it in?"

Dean felt his heart do a little flip, as it did every time Sammy and Owen addressed him as "daddy". He crouched in front of the almost-five-year-old and helped him tuck the shirt into his pants. "We'll buy you a cowboy hat in town, bud. And there's a pair of John's old ropers you can have."

"John?" Owen repeated, brow furrowing.

"He's mommy's brother Chris' oldest son. Your older cousin. He'll be six in August."

"Oh. How many do I have?"

"Well, there's John. His full name is John Bradley, so we sometimes call him JB. He's got twin little sisters, Sydney and Katelyn. Katelyn hates being called Katie so we call her Kate. And they've got a baby brother named Chris, after his daddy."

"Why's he named after his daddy?"

"His daddy died, buddy."

"Oh." Owen fell quiet, watching while Dean fixed his buttons. "Just the four?"

"Well…mommy has a sister named Claire. She lives in California. We don't really talk to her much."

"Oh."

"And then there's my brother, your Uncle Sam. He's got your cousin Levi, and soon you're going to have two new baby cousins." He finished with the buttons and kissed Owen's cheek. "And, you'll have a new baby brother, too."

"Another brother?" Owen asked, beaming.

"In a few months now," Dean confirmed with a nod. "Is that okay?"

"Do I get to help feed him?"

"I'm sure mommy would let you."

"Cool!"

"Yeah, cool. Let's go find those ropers, shall we?

A/N: In case anyone is wondering – and I bet a few of you are – ropers are not indeed, ropes. They're a type of boot worn by a lot of farmers/ranchers in the West, especially in Wyoming. It's a short boot – it ends three to four inches above the ankle, and most of them have these little tab-looking decoration at the end of the laces. They are extremely comfortable, withstand weather, and are very hardy. So…yeah. :)

xxx

Connie sat in the now-silent kitchen. Sam sat at the table chewing his food, his smoldering eyes fixed on her, a savage light sparking in his dark eyes. His long, lanky arms were resting on the table, his right bending to shovel food into, in her opinion, an impossibly gigantic mouth.

"What are you staring out, Sasquatch?" she inquired coldly.

"Demonspawn," he said in return, voice as hard and cold as a glacier.

"Boy, that's original." Connie rolled her eyes and took a huge bite of her breakfast.

"Bitch."

"Mushroom."

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion, the first new expression on his face since the kitchen had emptied. "What?" he demanded, incredulous. From her perch on the barstool, she could feel his conflicting emotions of confusion, amusement, anger, and annoyance. Quite frankly, it was giving her a bloody headache. Sometimes, as in times like these, she hated her super-sensitive senses. They gave her headaches too often.

"Your hair, dumbass." She gestured at his head with her fork and lifted an eyebrow. "Mushroom." She ended the statement with a firm nod and crinkled nose, as if she disapproved of his current hairstyle.

He lifted a hand to his head self-consciously, brow furrowing as he frowned. "There is nothing wrong with my hair!" he protested, momentarily forgetting that he hated her. "It does not look like a mushroom!"

"Let me say again, mushroom," Connie shrugged. "But if you dislike that, fine. Mophead, then."

"I… what… psh…" he spluttered, not knowing which sentence to start first.

Sam sent Connie a scorching glare and turned sideways to he wouldn't have to look at her, silently hoping that Ally would remember his existence and come into the kitchen again so he wouldn't have to deal with her.

Connie smirked in victory, proceeding to ignore him and dig into her breakfast.

xxx

Two minutes later, Paige's patience was at its end. "Samuel Dean Winchester, where in the world are your ropers?" she sighed, digging through his closet in search of the shoes she wanted.

"Mommy, loo!" Sammy cried.

When she turned around, she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Sammy had put his boots on himself, but on the wrong feet.

"Wrong way, buddy," she said, taking them off and fixing them for him. "Can you lace them?"

Sammy stuck his tongue out in concentration and laced them slowly and carefully, but he did lace them all by himself. He just couldn't tie them in a bow at the top, so she did that for him.

"Horsey?" he said hopefully as she set his white Stetson on his head.

"In a little bit, buddy. We're going out to dinner tonight, though."

"Wif who?"

"With your Uncle Sam, Aunt Ally, Aunt Amy and your cousins, Levi, Jared, grandpa, and Elliot."

"'Kay."

"Come on, bud." She tucked in his shirt, buttoned it up, and tugged his pants straight. She grinned hugely. He looked like a miniature cowboy, especially with his sleeves all rolled up and his top two buttons undone. Was she corrupting him? Maybe. But he looked pretty damn cute, especially with his REBEL belt buckle, his blue plaid shirt and white tanktop underneath, and his scuffed ropers. "Daddy, Owen, and Brody are probably already downstairs."

Sammy walked along cheerfully beside her. When she glanced down she forced herself not to laugh.

He had his thumbs hooked in his belt loops.

When he grew up, she was in so much trouble. He was going to be one hell of a heartbreaker.

xxx

They played for a few hours outside. It was starting to get warmer out, and the day was relatively nice, for Wyoming, anyway. The sun was out and a few birds were out and about. The horses were in their paddocks happily munching on hay bales and alfalfa.

And the Winchesters were in the back, surrounded by friends and family and playing a game of impromptu soccer.

"Go Sammy, go!" Dean cheered as he ran down their makeshift soccer field, set in the mostly-frozen lawn beside the pool out back. Sam guarded one of the goals, and Jared the other, he and Rachel having arrived a while after breakfast with Elliot, Lisa and baby Abby. The women, Connie included, were sitting in lawn chairs beside the covered pool talking. Well, in Dean's opinion, more gossiping, but whatever.

Paige was on the sidelines, one hand on her stomach, camera in hand, as was Ally, who sat beside her. Noah, Michael, and their surprise visitors Jake (Jared's brothers and fresh from Iraq with stitches in his left cheek but no more the worse for wear) and Michael David (also Jared's brother – they inserted the middle name so that he was not confused with Michael the FBI Agent, who was on the other side of the family) ran with them. He'd dragged Theo along, adding Michelle to the ruckus, their sons Blaine and Sawyer currently chasing Sammy. Michelle sat beside Connie chatting about knives while she cradled her and Theo's six-month-old daughter, Amber. Lisa sat with Abby bouncing up and down, gurgling madly. Amy sat beside them with Chris before her on teh lawn, playing with blocks with Brody. The two of them were only about six months apart.

It was a mess of adults and kids – the men and children barefoot – but there was laughter all around.

Dean turned his attention to the game when a soccer ball slammed into his temple and sent him sprawling. "Ow!" he bellowed, shaking his head to alleviate the dizziness and fly-tackling Theo, who was laughing madly and cheering at his perfect aim.

"Quick, Owen, get the ball!" he cried, pinning Theo and mercilessly attempting to crush him with his weight.

Owen, his cheeks red with excitement and running around barefoot like the rest of the kids (it was difficult to play soccer in ropers), took the soccer ball and dribbled it down the field, Sammy running beside him, shoving Levi out of the way, as Levi was on the other team. With surprising strength, Owen set his left foot beside the ball, right arm out for balance, face fierce in concentration, and using his instep launched the ball at Sam's goal with such surprising strength it wasn't caught.

Throwing his hands up in victory, Owen cheered. Dean scrambled off Theo to scoop him up and swing him around. "Nice goal, bud!" he said, tickling his tummy mercilessly. He set him back on his feet, where Noah gave him a high-five.

The teams consisted as such – Jared, Dean, Noah, Sammy, Little John (JB), Elliot, Sawyer, Jake, and Owen versus Sam, Michael, Michael David, Levi, Theo, Blaine, Kate and Sydney, and Connie, who had joined just now. She kicked off her boots and rolled her sleeves up. "Bring it," she challenged the field.

That brought on a whole new level of gaming – the competition was on, mostly between the adults. The kids just darted about in-between, stealing the ball when they could but mostly just running around madly or in circles.

By five o'clock in the afternoon, everyone was hungry and ready to go eat. The best restaurant in town, for dinner anyway, was Buchanan's, a family restaurant run by George Buchanan, a Scottish immigrant, and his family. They, in the opinion of those currently gathered, made the best damn hamburger's in the state, thank you very much.

Paige rubbed her forehead and picked up Brody. "Dean," she called from her perch on the porch steps, Sammy's hand firmly in hers. There was a sea of heads below and eight cars parked in the driveway, including her and Dean's charcoal-colored GMC Yukon XL. She knew her husband was out there somewhere with Owen. "Dean!"

"Here," Dean called back, appearing between Michael David and Jake, Owen perched on his back. "Ready to go?"

"Does everyone know who's going in which car?"

"Been over it four times now, honey," he said calmly, holding out his hand. She reached down and grasped it, relieved when he scooped up Sammy in his free arm, as Owen clung to his back. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we? Sammy!"

"Wha, daddy?" Sammy said cheerfully, looking up at him, his hat slightly askew on his head.

"Not you, silly. Uncle Sam. Sam! Ally! Let's go!" he shouted over the noise of everyone grouping and heading for their respective vehicles.

Dean set Sammy and Owen down and opened the right passenger door, tipping the seat forward. "Owen, in the back you go, bud," he said, waiting for him to settle in-between the two carseats in the back. As soon as Owen was mostly situated, he lifted Sammy to the far seat and let him buckle himself with Owen as a watchful big brother. He then took Brody from his wife and settled him in the second carseat, buckling him and tipping the seat forward when he was done. He moved around to the driver's side to give Sam and Ally room to buckle Levi to the third carseat.

"Ready?" Paige asked from the passenger seat, looking over her shoulder to find her family buckled in nice and safe. "Off to dinner we go then."

"Bucknins!" Sammy cheered excitedly.

"It's Buchanan's, dummy," Owen corrected him, fidgeting in his booster seat, softening his scolding by a soft pat on the top of Sammy's currently hatless head.

"Owen Michael, be nice," Paige scolded without turning around.

"Yes, mommy," Owen replied immediately, unfazed. "Is it cool daddy? Is Mr. George nice?" he demanded excitedly,

"Mr. George is awesome, bud," Dean promised. The car was a whirlwind of noise and conversation, most of which he tried to ignore so that he wouldn't get distracted. He wasn't surprised when Paige's hand slipped into his. He glanced over quickly at her. "How in the world are they going to seat everyone? What's the reservation for?"

"Twenty-five including Constance, and my dad's meeting us there, so twenty-six."

"Yikes. Where's he gonna put us?"

"In the back room used for private parties."

"Well, that's gonna be a nightmare."

"Yes, but mostly, it's just going to be loud."

"Fun…"

Dean's prediction had been true. It took fifteen minutes to get all the cars parked, the kids unloaded, the host looking astonished by their sheer number before he recognized Dean and his face relaxed. The host was, coincidentally, Cody Jackson.

"Hey, Cody," Dean greeted him, grabbing him in a bear hug.

"Mr. Winchester, sir," Cody replied with a cheeky wink. "Your table's ready in the back. Follow me." He led the way, slapping people's shoulders here and there. Everyone in the restaurant, not including the out-of-towners, greeted them as they entered, calling hello's and hey y'all across the space.

"How many highchairs do you need?" Cody asked, glancing around and trying to search for babies but being unsuccessful, as there was too much action to keep track of.

Paige did a quick headcount. Sammy, Levi, Brody, Abby, Chris, and Amber, plus booster seats for Owen, the twins, and Blaine. "Six high chairs, four booster seats, if you will, sweetheart," she said to the teen, smiling up at him. Ever since learning what he'd done for her and Jared during the fight a few months back, she'd developed a deeper soft spot for the cheeky teenager.

"Oh, and don't forget one for Sam and Michael," Noah called, grinning wickedly. Rolling their eyes, Michelle and Ally whacked him upside the head in unison.

"Abuse!" he cried, covering his head. "Abuse, abuse! Quick, call the authorities!"

"I am the authority, idiot," Elliot chuckled, flicking his balled-up straw cover in Noah's face.

"Ignore them," Paige sighed, rolling her eyes and patting his arm.

"Right away, ma'am," Cody replied, his eyes crinkling when he smiled at her. "I'll be right back with those." He paused and turned back around, bending down closer so she could hear him. "And, uh, just wanted to let you know that construction finished tearing up The Tank this morning. The new one is cattycorner to where the old one used to stand."

Paige's blood ran cold. Dean squeezed her thigh gently when he sensed her stiffen, and she cleared her throat. "T-Thank you, Cody," she whispered, patting his cheek.

He smiled and disappeared.

"What was that all about?" Dean murmured, leaning around Brody to be closer to her.

She told him, and he looked relieved. "Good. I hope they burn that damn thing. Good riddance." He kissed her cheek. "Now you don't ever have to think about it again."

Paige smiled and hugged Sammy, who was seated in her lap. Dean sat up straight to snipe an insult to Connie which she returned. Something along the lines of "you're such a chick" replied by "well at least I've got guts". They'd been sniping each other a lot more than usual lately, not with malicious intent, but more because it seemed to have become the norm. It was simply the way they communicated, though thankfully, they dialed it down substantially when the kids were in earshot. Like now.

Cody re-appeared with their high-chairs in tow along with a few other waiters, who put them where requested. The younger kids were then settled into high-chairs and fed.

"Dean," she whispered.

He turned to look at her.

"Do you think Sam will try to kill Connie?"

"Not if he's got a brain. I'd kill him first." He grinned crookedly. "She may come in handy someday."

By the time appetizers (onion rings, fries, and garden salads for the pregnant women) were served, there were six different conversations going around the table.

Paige was talking to Connie, who was seated next to her with Sammy between them. "But why would you want an unserrated knife?" she was arguing. "Serrated causes way more damage."

"But it doesn't go in as smooth and makes a mess," Connie retorted. "It's better to have a smooth edge blade when you're trying to stab between the ribs." She paused. "In case, of course, you're talking about a Ka-Bar. Those knives are epic." She produced one out of thin air and grinned wickedly.

"Constance!" she protested, shoving her hand down out of sight. "What is wrong with you?"

"What? It's a town of bloody hunters!"

"Manners!" Paige said in a strained voice, palming her face. "You DO NOT brandish knives in public! Got me?"

"Manners? Never heard of them." Connie turned up her nose mockingly. As a joke, of course.

"Ugh, of course you haven't…"

Sam couldn't decide. He sat silently at his dinner chair, beside his wife and with Levi in a high chair between them. The soldier – Jake – sat on his other side. Across the table was Paige and Dean, quietly talking to each other, noses almost touching before they shared a quick kiss and returned to the conversations at each end of the table. Connie was now arguing with Paige about knives, Dean with Jared over guns.

What he couldn't decide was whether these people were nuts, or severely disturbed.

Twenty minutes later, they were swapping war stories. The kids had been moved to a smaller separate table and were being loud but not too messy, blessedly. He just sat there and stared at them, at how normal they all seemed, despite the fact each and every one of them were hunters. It was like being on the outside looking in. He felt like he didn't belong, even as Jake got him talking about college.

And, to top it all off, Ally was still pissed at him for yelling at Levi. Which meant he was most likely sleeping alone tonight.

Now depressed, he resumed his efforts to talk to his fiancé.


Thunder Creek, Wyoming
Thursday March 30, 2006 – 4:15 AM

Paige rubbed her eyes tiredly and sat up. She wasn't sure what had woken her up, but she noticed immediately that her husband was not beside her. "Dean?" she called, squinting against the shaft of light pouring across the bed from the crack in the bathroom doorway. The shower shut off and Dean appeared a few moments later with a towel wrapped tight around his waist.

"What's up?" he asked, rubbing his newly-shaved face.

"What are you doing?"

"Sam's going to get the ranch treatment today." He sat on the bed and bent down to kiss her good morning. His skin was blazing from the heat of the shower and warmed her through the fabric of her T-shirt. "I was just about to go down and make coffee. Sorry I woke you," he murmured.

She gently pushed him away and sat up to stretch, tapping his smooth cheek. "The alarm was set for fifteen minutes from now, anyway," she sighed. "Fifteen minutes isn't too big of a deal."

He chuckled and disappeared into the closet. She could hear his hand slapping the ceiling until he found the light switch and the light flooded onto the carpet. "Found it," he called good-naturedly.

Paige laughed and dragged herself out of bed, thankful for the heater that warmed the house. She ambled over to the closet just in time to see Dean tug on a plain white T-shirt, his jeans still unbuttoned and socks half on his feet, his boxers peeking out of his waistline. She fished around her side of the closet, searching for her favorite sweatpants.

"Are you taking Owen?" she asked, kicking off her pajama pants in favor of the warmer sweatpants.

"I was planning on it. I'll come back and get him at a more decent hour, though. He's a little young for four in the morning," Dean replied. He was buttoning up his black long-sleeved shirt as he spoke, his eyes fixed on her. Her shirt was off, revealing her bra and her little growing baby bump. A happy little smile tugged at his lips at the sight.

"Your shirt is crooked," she pointed out, smirking.

Dean wasn't the slightest bit embarrassed to be caught looking. He just closed the distance in two strides and wrapped her in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"You smell like soap," she observed with a little half-smile.

"Hmm," he agreed, squeezing her tight before releasing her to button his pants and pull his socks the rest of the way on. "It's going to be weird without you out there with us." It was true, too. She'd been present at all of the beginning of spring cattle drives since she was a kid.

"It's going to be weird staying here while you go out." She made a brief expression of discomfort and rubbed her back, attempting to knead the tight muscles. "You and the guys driving the herd to the east pasture?" she asked.

"Yep. Sounds like it's going to be an all-day thing."

"Well, if you don't get back in time for dinner I'll put it in the fridge for you to eat when you get home. I made lunches for you yesterday. Jared picked them up and promised to put them in the bed of his truck for you guys. He's closer to the East Pasture than we are."

"Thanks."

Paige shrugged and flashed him a wry smile. "What else are wives good for?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized she should not have said them aloud. Dean snagged her waistband.

"Oh, I can think of a few things…" he said huskily. With one easy yank he pulled her down into his lap. "Especially– "

She slapped a hand over his mouth and bit back a laugh. His lips curved into a smile under her fingers, his eyes sparkling with amusement, the gold flecks becoming more prominent amongst the depths of devilish green. He didn't push her hand away, instead, he leaned closer and slipped an arm around her waist to hold her close while the other hand slipped under her shirt to rest against her lower back.

The sparkle in his eyes intensified. She tilted her head sideways, wariness being pushed aside as curiosity overcoming her. He'd never done this before, and she wanted to know what he was up to. As soon as she dropped her hand from his lips, his smile became tender as his other hand settled on her back as well. With a suddenness that made her jump slightly his fingers started massaging the painful knots.

She moaned – embarrassingly – aloud from the pain followed by the relief as the muscles relaxed for the first time in more than a week. She rested her forehead on his shoulder and lost sense of time.

"Better?" he asked after a while, fingers still surely massaging out the tightness. He chuckled slightly when she nodded but didn't say anything, her eyes shut and body relaxed. Taking advantage of her not paying attention, he kissed her on the forehead. When his hands finally stilled she sighed and kissed the side of his neck.

"Thanks," she said, voice muffled in his shirt.

"Anytime," Dean promised, rubbing her shoulder blade absently. "There really is magic in the magic fingers," he teased. When she lightly smacked his chest he only smiled.

They both laughed softly.

"Well, now that I have you exactly where I want you…" he trailed off with a chuckle when she slapped him again without opening her eyes. "Okay, being serious now." He was pleased when her right eyelid cracked open to peer up at him, curiosity sparkling in their depths.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Paige asked.

"A social worker hasn't even come by yet," he said reluctantly. "And that's just the tip of my iceberg of worries."

Paige just settled against his chest and relaxed in his embrace, knowing that he would eventually spill what was bothering him. His head dropped heavily to rest on her shoulder, his forehead pressing against her collarbone.

"I feel like I'm losing him, Paige," he sighed, voice muffled but clear. He didn't need to say his name. She knew he was talking about Sam. "I feel like he's slipping through my fingers. Sometimes I look at him and I don't even know who he is anymore. He's so full of hate and revenge, that he just…well, you saw him yell at Levi today. That's…my baby brother wouldn't do that. Not ever. He's…he's different. And I don't like who he's turning into. He just…he doesn't get it. He doesn't get that he's got a wonderful, loving, special fiancé, a beautiful son… don't get me wrong, he's my brother and I'd die for him. But sometimes I just want to beat the hell out of him, you know?"

She did know, but kept that opinion to herself.

"He doesn't deserve her," he continued in a rough voice. "She's too good for him. He treats her like crap… half the time he barely even acknowledges that she exists, except for when he needs her for release. And that's not right. He's using her, and I don't think he means to or even realizes what he's doing. And that… that's just not Sam. After Jessica died, he… there's darkness in him. Lots of it. I see it every time I look into his face. But I love him, Paige. He's my baby brother, and I pretty much raised him. I just…"

Dean started shaking, from anger or despair, she didn't know. She just ran her fingers through his hair and rested her hand on the back of his neck, hopefully providing comfort.

"Sam isn't the same person he used to be. And to be perfectly honest, I love hunting. I do. It's a part of who I am." Dean paused, as if unsure how to continue. "But Sam…he's driven by revenge. He needs to kill things. And as soon as you need to kill things, that's when you're supposed to stop. Because that's when you start to lose yourself. I can't leave him to hunt alone, he'd get himself killed. It's like his self-preservation instinct burned up with Jess. If I'm not with him, he'll be dead in a week. But that's just it. He doesn't really get that I don't want to be with him all the time. He doesn't get that I'm different.

"I'm not the same man I used to be. For the better, in my opinion. I'd so much rather be here. He just doesn't understand life, I don't think. And he certainly doesn't understand my life. That I'd rather be here, watching movies and throwing popcorn, or playing with the boys all day. That I'd rather trail cows with the guys and be with Sergeant and the dogs, and then come home to you, to my family. That I'd rather be here, making a family with you, making love to you, than in some crappy motel room where I barely get any sleep anyway because you and the boys aren't with me. And I'm getting really tired of it."

Paige hugged him tight, tears pricking her eyes. He was getting burned out. She recognized that. "You have to do it, Dean," she whispered into his hair. "You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if something happened to Sam."

"I know that, love," he murmured, kissing the hollow of her temple. "But it doesn't mean that I want to. I just wanted you to know that."

She forced his head up, her hands framing his face, emotion flickering across his features and through the depths of his agonized green eyes. "I do know that. But hunting is a part of who you are, Dean. To give that up… to give that up is to give up a part of yourself. I can't ask you to do that. No one can. Not even Sam." She kissed his forehead, and when she pulled away, his eyes were closed, his eyelashes a dark brush against his cheeks. "So maybe, just maybe, you should try to make Sam understand. That way, somewhere along the line, it won't be for lack of trying."

"That's what I plan to do," he promised, hugging her tight. "When I find my father, I'm going to give him a huge hug." He chuckled despite himself. "And then, I'm going to sock him in the face."

"That's the man I married," she whispered, and kissed him.

Xxx

2:12 am (same morning, just a bit before the above)

Sam was sleeping like crap. His dreams were haunted by Jessica and Ally on the ceiling, by a crucified Levi, by skinned dogs on the front porch and fields of bones raining blood over the landscape. The nightmares clawed at him, tore at him, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't wake up.

Ally! His mind screamed. She was his refuge, his solace from these horrible nightmares. Ally!

He thrashed, sweat beading on his brow, his eyes flickering madly under his skin. Ally wasn't here. He knew she wasn't, because she'd kicked him out of their room. Panic engulfed him – he couldn't wake up. A man with yellow eyes loomed above him, face twisted into a cruel smile, knife in his hand. He drew it back, his eyes gleaming, and –

A soft, warm hand settled on his ice-cold brow. His thrashing and the throbbing of his head ceased. He could breathe again. Yellow eyes faded to be replaced by the more peaceful blackness of nothing, a refreshing blank screen to soothe his tortured soul.

"Ally…" he murmured, hand blindly searching for her. A smaller hand found his, fingers squeezing tight, the band of her engagement ring cold against his middle finger.

"I'm here, Sam."

xxx

4:25

Dean strode up the stairs, Stetson perched on his head and boots laced up nice and comfortable, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.

This day, Sam Winchester would learn what it was like to be a rancher.

He threw the door open, unsurprised to see that Ally was absent. He could hear the shower. Being careful not to spill his coffee, he walked over to the bed, set the cup on the nightstand, grabbed the glass of water, and dumped it on his brother's head.

"Rise and shine, Sammy," he said loudly as his brother gasped and flew bold upright, the water dripping down the contours of his bare chest. He yanked the blanket up to cover his nakeness, spluttering in male annoyance.

"What the hell, Dean!" he shouted, confused.

"Wake up," Dean ordered, lifting his coffee cup. He tossed the clothes he'd been holding at his brother, satisfied when they wacked his face. Sam stared down at the pair of Wranglers, the chaps, the ropers, the flannel shirt, and long socks, and the simple belt in the pile. "We've got work to do."

"It's four in the morning!"

"Well, Sammy, welcome to life on a ranch. You've got three minutes to get dressed. Ally can help with the ropers. Lacing them is a bit confusing at first."

And with that, he strode out of the room and made a beeline for the kitchen. Paige was waiting with a plate of hot food that he scarfed down in a minute tops. He accepted the super-thermos full of coffee exactly the way he liked it and kissed her long and hard.

"You taste like coffee," she complained, wrinkling her nose and gently shoving him back. "Have fun out there." Her eyes were wistful.

"Next year, honey," he reminded her, kissing the crown of her head.

"Yeah, I know."

Sam stumbled into the kitchen, looking awkward and out of place in his new attire. "You are an insufferable asshole."

"Bout damn time, Princess," Dean grunted. "And you are an insufferable whiny baby. Move your ass. Let's go." He kissed his wife again. "Love you. See you tonight."

Paige waved them off as they headed down the porch steps in the direction of the stables. She'd passed Sam a thermos that he'd wordlessly accepted. Snickering slightly, she hoped Dean would grill his ass big time.

Farm, here ass.

This here was a ranch.

Bout damn time he learned the difference.

By the end of today, baby girl, he will.

Paige jumped, gasped, and whirled around to find the kitchen empty. Agony ripped through her. He hadn't spoken in weeks. She'd thought he'd left. But now...

"Chris..."

I'm right here, baby girl. Always.

xxx

Dean strode silently along the path. This day had been carefully calculated. Sam didn't get chaps. He'd never really ridden a horse except for that one time on Taurus. So, in (lets face it) petty but deserved revenge, he was purposefully putting Sam on Donas, his wife's old gelding. 'Donas', for the record, meant 'Devil' in Gaelic. The name was fitting. That horse had a trot like a jackhammer and a temper worse than Brad's.

The barn was warm. He wasted no time taking up the two horses and cross tying them in the isle. "Come on, Sam," he ordered.

That led to a series of tasks Sam learned to hate. First, he got his hands pecked by the chickens when he took their eggs. Then, he got to feed the pigs, of which there was the worst smell he'd ever beheld in his life. Feeding the horses was easy. Then it was the donkey – who kicked him on the ass, literally, while Dean just sniggered – and the Shetland pony, who bit his thigh. All of this, Dean observed with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

Then, he got to milk the damn cow.

He now hated cows. Like, really hated cows.

Three solid kicks, a soon-to-be black eye, and three stomped on fingers later, he had half a pail. Dean shoved him aside and got what he needed, the cow not protesting his stupid brother's presence at all. Bastard cow… and bastard Dean, too.

That all took about twenty-five mintues, as Dean had him practically running from station to station. He carried the milk and the eggs to the kitchen, and then Dean dragged him back out to the barn and unhooked the two horses.

It was barely five in the morning.

Dean mounted Sergeant easily, turning him in tight circles to soothe his friskiness.

Envious of his brother's skill, he mounted the horse he was on like he'd mounted Taurus, except before he was even properly settled, Sergeant set off at a canter and his horse bolted right after him. He almost fell off twice and his butt was mercilessly pounded into the hard leather saddle.

Dean halted Sarge at the fence and bent down to open it. As soon as they were both through, he closed it again.

"Donas," Dean said, pointing to the horse Sam was astride. "Let's walk for a while."

Sam was happy to oblige, slightly nervous of the horse. Donas meant Devil. He knew that much.

"We're going to trail the cattle all day," his brother explained. "One of the herd breaks off, you push it back. The goal is to keep the herd together as we move. As soon as we get them into the East, they mostly just graze, so we'll be sitting stationary. You get one break for lunch. Got me?"

"Yeah, got you," Sam grumbled. And then much to his chagrin, Sergeant started trotting for about ninety paces. Donas' trot was so bouncy it felt like his nether regions were being pulverized. He felt like he was going to die, and it wasn't even six am yet.

Sergeant was cantering again. Donas kept up easily, the golden horse's canter much smoother than his trot. "What type is he?"

"Quarter Horse," Dean replied. "Palomino. That's his color, the golden with the blonde mane. He was Paige's until she got Cisco instead. She was going to reture him. She sold him to one of our hands that works for us during planting season. His name's Hank. Donas stays here for the off season and is Hank's when he's here."

Sam winced. His back was starting to cramp. They rode like this for quite a few paces, Dean's movements smooth and perfectly in sync with the horse, while he clutched the saddle horn and tried to alleviate the tension on his ass.

"Relax, Sam. Hurts a whole lot less."

He tried, he really did. And then he realized his brother was smiling.

Damn cowboy.

Sam was being tortured.

It was torture of the most acute kind. Dean, Elliot, Jared, even Michael, were perfect riders. They were smooth, balanced, graceful. He just bounced around like a jack hammer. He didn't even have rope. His brother, however, had both hands in the air, a rope coiled and swinging a loop over his head as he chased down a cattle that bolted towards the fence line, where barbed wire was.

The damn asshole was riding with no hands, and looked completely at ease. He and Sergeant urged the cow back to the herd, satisfied it wouldn't try to hurt itself on the barbed wire. Jared was currently fixing some messed up fences, his heavy gloves on to protect from the barbs.

He just sat there, mostly, though Donas occasionally moved on his own to cut off a cow attempting to move from the herd. All he did was sit there. The damn horse was doing all the work. It was boring, too. They were moving at a slow pace across the huge open space, towards an unknown destination.

"Horse is better than he is," Elliot observed, trotting next to Dean on the right flank of the herd.

"No shit," Dean chuckled. "Sam sucks at all things horses. Never done it in his life."

"You've got natural talent, though. Donas took to you first time we put you on him, and that was back in the days when he tried to kill everyone but Paige and Chris." He glanced back at the gangly and awkward young man, clutching the pommel, his shoulders hunched and face down, being baked by the sun. He was wearing no chaps, so his legs were going to be rubbed as hell tomorrow. "Sam, not so much. Why'd you bring him out, anyway?"

Dean shrugged. "We had a hole in the line at the tail of the heard. Who else to fill it?"

"In other words, just to torture him, then?" Elliot guessed, grinning. He did know Dean pretty well.

A sneaky smirk was all Elliot got in reply, and he laughed, to which Dean joined in.

"Serves him right," Dean sighed, pushing his hat up slightly to scratch his forehead. "He called this place a farm."

Elliot snorted. "That was a mistake."

"Ha, no kidding," he chortled. Sergeant tensed underneath him, and his rope was instantly in his hand as a cow bolted ahead. He didn't need to direct his horse. He knew what to do. They had the cow back in the herd where he belonged in a jiffy.

"Dean Winchester, the hunting cowboy," Elliot teased, watching the impressive combination of partnership, speed, strength, and grace the pair displayed.

Dean flourished his hat. "Damn straight," he smirked. He urged Sergeant to a canter and looped around the herd, coming up beside Sam. "Hanging in there, little brother."

"I hate you," Sam snarled.

He just smirked and returned to Elliot's side.

"One of these hours, he may just get it," Dean sighed.

Elliot laughed. "Better hope he does."

xxx

Sam was weary. Everything ached. His feet were killing him, his legs were trembling, and his back was a mass of knots from fighting the horse's movements all day - ten hours he'd sat on this damn thing. They'd driven the cows into the pasture, and then trailed them until sundown. They'd been too busy to even have lunch, so he was starving on top of everything else. He was also sunburned on his face and neck, and his legs felt like all the skin had been chafed off of them.

Dean dismounted and clapped Sergeant on the neck. "Did good today, didn't we, boy?" he murmured, rubbing his horse's ears. He watched as Sam took a deep breath, slowly swung his leg over, kicked his foot out of the stirrup, and dropped back to the ground, kneeing Donas's side in the process. The horse whinnied shrilly, pinned his ears, and skittered away from Sam, stomping angrily at the ground.

He grabbed the gelding's reigns, smirking as his brother's knees crumpled and he fell flat on his ass in a puff of dust.

"So, what was that about a farm, Sammy?" Dean questioned, leaning over him slightly and raising an eyebrow.

"Ranch," Sam groaned, making no move to get up. "It's a ranch."

"Atta boy."

Lesson learned.


E/N: Okay, so I'm not too big of a fan of this chapter. But it was fun to write. Mostly just relationship and funny/cute scenes. Next might have some John action... give me 5 reviews and I'll get it out ASAP.

FiveForFighting09, hope you liked the cowboy parts! There's more in the next chapter… bwahaha. ;)