Chapter 6.

Dean was pleased with his morning's work. There were four possible cars within a reasonable distance and they were all blue Camaros with character and style. She may have to play human for a while, but there was no need for her to accept inferior wheels to replace her wings.

He knew which one she would choose. Well, no, angels were unpredictable. He knew which one he would choose, crafted in '69 and claimed to be in showroom condition. if it were as good as described, the high price was fair. Not that money was a big factor. Thanks to Charlie, they no longer needed to budget, although Dean still found that he did. Just like he kept cans of food in the trunk of the Impala, in case they needed them. The habits of hardship were not easy to shake off.

There was one financial matter he did need to give some attention. Eileen's news had made it an urgent matter and much as he hated dealing with professionals in shiny offices and shiny suits, he knew there was no reason to delay. He found a nice, anonymous town near to where the best Camaro was and he looked for the appropriate professional and called his office.

"Good morning, Ellis and Tweed." said the young woman, "My name is Ella. How can I help you today?"

"If I wanted to set up a college fund for a baby," he said, "I wouldn't need the kid's name right away, would I?"

"No, sir, if the baby hasn't been named yet, that won't be a problem."

"This baby hasn't been born yet. Problem?"

"Not at all, sir." she said.

"I think I love you. It's my brother's kid, his first. I want to make sure that child has every opportunity in life. I don't suppose I could make an appointment today?"

"With Mr Ellis or Ms Tweedy?" she said.

"Don't care. Anyone who knows how to do the paperwork."

"Mr Ellis is free at three. Is that convenient?"

"That's awesome." he said.

"Could I take your name, sir?"

He almost gave his name as Campbell, but Jack and Cas between them had taken the metaphorical curse off the name of Winchester, if not any of the actual ones. The thought came to him that Sam's child could have his or her real name. That was a happy thought. "Dean Winchester." he said.

"We'll see you at three, then, Mr Winchester."

"Thankyou." he said. He ended the call. It would be the perfect gift for the child. Maybe the baby wouldn't want to go to college, but he or she would have the choice and at the same time, it would be his apology to Sammy, a statement of regret for everything he had been forced to give up and a promise not to place any limits on the new generation of Winchesters.

He'd been happy at the wedding, watching his brother make vows for a future that could be wonderful. He'd loved seeing Sam and Eileen dancing, lost in each other's eyes.

He'd been happy every day of the honeymoon. He'd told Sam not to think of the bunker and Sam had tried, but at the end of each day, he had sent a photo of himself and Eileen, sometimes with Cesar and Jesse, sometimes with horses, dogs or cats. The ranch had plenty of all three. Sometimes it was just the two of them, in their room, all smiles. Every picture told him they were safe and happy and the fact that Sam sent something every evening said that he still loved his brother and wanted to share his joy with him.

On their return, the bunker had felt different. Their continuing happiness had changed the place and reduced stress levels for everyone and then, that morning, they had shared their news and given Dean the one thing he had always wanted. Best of all, they knew it. They knew his joy would be only a little less than theirs. Their child would be the rarest thing in the world, an uncursed Winchester, a Winchester with two parents, a Winchester who felt loved, protected, enough.

Sam was going to tell the baby every day that he or she was loved. Sam would be a better father than John had been, better than the father Dean had tried to be. That great big heart of his, that he had often worn too much on his sleeve, would show the child love and encouragement constantly.

John Winchester had loved his kids. He still did. In life, he had loved them with a ferocity that had blinded him to all else. To them, it had seemed like a quest for revenge, because he had never told them otherwise, either because he assumed they knew or because he didn't want to ay that burden on his children, but it had always been about them, protecting them.

He'd loved them so much that when one of them tried to slip out from under his protection, he had yelled and screamed and said everything he could think of to frighten or guilt him back. He'd loved them so much that when the son who thought he meant least to his father lay dying, he had knowingly accepted an eternity in Hell and submission to the monster that had murdered his wife to buy that son a second chance. He had loved them so much that he had been afraid to speak of love or fear or grief, in case his feelings were too heavy and too dark and drove his children away.

Dean knew how that felt, to fear that too much honesty would drive those he loved out of his life forever. For years, he had thought that Sam had left because John said too much. Now, he knew that one, truly honest conversation could have kept the family together.

Even now, when he wanted to be honest with Sam, the little voice in his head would say, "Shut up, you idiot, do you want to lose him?" The difference now was that the Pact had allowed them to be honest about their fear of honesty and Sam knew the voice was there. Sometimes he could tell that Dean was hearing it and he would say something to counter it and Dean would manage to say something real and true. The fact that Sam never responded by storming out and slamming the door tended to make the next time easier.

John Winchester had loved his kids, but they had rarely been sure of that when he was with them. From the best of motives, he had starved them of affection and in doing so, had pre-emptively rejected theirs. Sam had grown away from his distant father and Dean had sought redemption through dedication and neither of them had realised that they had the place in his heart that both craved.

It would not be like that for the baby. Sam was the strongest of them and the wisest. He remembered how it had felt to meet a stony façade when he longed for warmth and love. Sam could be fearless, something Dean had never managed. He could do heroic things without flinching. He could throw his heart at the feet of his child. He was the right one to be a father.

He heard the little voice again, "But not you. You tried and failed. You can never be like Sam." He grinned. Stupid voice! He knew that already. He had accepted it a long time ago, but lousy father or not, he would be the best uncle the world had ever seen.

He stood, put his phone in his pocket and headed for the library. Sam and Eileen were in there, grinning at pictures of the unused room. Anael and Charlie were chatting quietly. Dean decided they'd probably conspired enough. "Hey, spare angel," he said, "You wanna come get a car?"

"You found one?" she said.

"I found four. We'll take a look at all of them."

"Are you sure you want to spend that much time on it?" she said.

"I'm sure that you don't want to just get the first car you see." he said, "That's how we ended up with the Pimpmobile parked in our garage."

"He hates you calling it that." she said.

"And you hate being called the spare angel. I guess I just piss off angels."

"Well, I 'm pretty good at pissing you off." she said.

He looked at Sam and Eileen, who were paying some attention, but still off in their own happy little world. "Not today." he said, "Today, not even you can annoy me."

"I'll have to try harder." she said, getting to her feet.

"You do that." he said, with a smirk.