AUTHOR'S NOTES

First and foremost, a huge thanks to the Fangirls (plus one. Dude, you know who you are, you randonauting fool) for pushing me to finish this story. You guys are prolific, supportive, and genuinely NICE people. Thanks for taking me under your wings. I promise to pimp your stories to the rafters. You're awesome!

Second and not so foremost: In the previous chapter, we discovered that the Winchesters have another half-brother. I personally am amazed at how many half-siblings these boys have-at least in fanfiction. (I mean LOOK at the fic board! Brothers and sisters everywhere! John Winchester is a freaking rabbit!) I guess it's not implausible, considering the man was traveling cross country all the time. OTOH-why did John make a baby in every state but neither Sam nor Dean have any kids? Except for that one daughter Dean had with an Amazon in Season 7:13, and she barely counted. Mostly because Sam killed her. (Though I believe she lives on in some fanfic, somewhere, bless her little Amazon heart.) Ultimately, I don't feel that bad creating another kid for John. (But seriously. Didn't he ever hear of condoms? C'mon, John. Keep it zipped!)

Predictably, we didn't move. For about three seconds. And then we exploded, all of us speaking at once. (See if you can figure out who said what.)

"What? Kieran's my brother?"

"The fuck, you say!"

"Kieran's a Winchester?"

Sam was the only one of us who sounded somewhat pleased by the news. I have to be honest, my first thought was to hope nobody told Kieran before I could; I wanted to see the look on his face. I wondered how I'd manage to record the moment for YouTube without him getting suspicious...but then I started wondering how the whole thing had happened.

Obviously, John was his dad (oh my God, Dean was his brother!), but who was his mother? A Cleaner? And when...and how...and why...and where was his mom, now? Was she banished? Holy crap. I stared at Bobby with my mouth hanging open, and I didn't care.

Bobby sighed, sat down and attempted to answer all our questions. He addressed Dean and Sam, first. "I thought you knew. John never told you? Then again, not surprising. He didn't share much."

The old man fixed me with a knowing, somewhat sad look. "You, I'm not surprised. Your father's an odd duck—no offense—and that whole Cleaner bloodline thing is whacked to begin with. The surprise there is that you're not all inbred. Hell, you probably are." He reached for his coffee, paused, then pulled his flask from his pocket again. He unscrewed the cap. "Getting a little Winchester blood in the mix won't hurt." He shrugged. "Probably, I know for a fact, it will help."

Then Dean exploded into action, leaning over the table to snatch the flask out of Bobby's hand before he could tip it into his mug, but then I stood and yanked it out of Dean's grasp. I dumped half of it into my coffee cup before he could even react. Which says something about how shocked he was, and how shaken I was: Dean's usual well-honed instincts were blown to shit and my Winchester hero worship was practically non-existent. I pushed the nearly empty flask back into his still-open hand as soon as my mug was full, and I tried to ignore the way he stared at me like I was some kind of freak.

I took a deep gulp of the bitter concoction, and then, fortified by the burn of whiskey whizzing through my veins, I turned and met his green-eyed stare with one of my own. "Don't look at me. I had no idea."

"You must have known. Had to suspect something. I mean, look at the guy. Most of you Cleaners are about five foot nothing. You're like munchkins, for fuck's sake. And he's a fucking Sasquatch," Dean accused.

Sam cleared his throat. "Dean." We all turned to look at him, and I wanted to slap my forehead. Durrrr...Now that I knew Keiran was his half-brother, I couldn't help but see all the similarities that had niggled at me. The same staggering height, the same flowing locks...

Sam's forehead wrinkled and Kieran—almost—stared back at me.

"The same freakin' bitch face," I breathed.

Dean threw himself against the back of his chair and pursed his lips, staring at Sam intensely. "That's just fucking creepy. It's like you and the douchebag are..."

"Brothers." I finished his trailed off sentence and shook my head. "What I want to know is...how could we have missed it? I mean, they were standing right next to each other and we didn't even…" I trailed off, this time. Perplexed, I lifted my whiskied coffee to my lips then realized the cup was empty. Damn.

"Are you folks ready to order?" The waitress appeared, perky and completely unaware of our tense moment, despite the blown-out looks on our faces.

"Yeah. I want a new cousin." I muttered, and slammed the mug down.

Dean looked at me sharply. "What's wrong with Kieran? What do you mean you want a new one? He's a Winchester. Isn't that good enough for you?"

What the hell? I frowned at him. "Two seconds ago, you were swearing your head off about it and now, he's family? Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right. The douchebag's my brother. So, what the fuck?"

"I can come back." The waitress hurried away.

In his usual Let Me Handle my Obnoxious Brother way, Sam intervened. "Look, guys. There's been a bombshell, obviously. But the bottom line is—Kieran's in FBI custody, falsely accused of something. We need to get him out. We can argue about this later."

"Oh yeah, sure. Easy for you to say. You like the guy," Dean answered.

"Hey!" I said, and punched him in the shoulder. "You were just sticking up for him."

"Ow!" He glared at me, though I'm pretty sure my punch felt like more of a tickle. "What was that for?"

"Because you're being a dick!" I told him.

"I'm being a dick? You're the one punching people for no reason."

"Are you telling me I'm a dick?" I stood up so I could look him in the eye. "I don't think that's even possible. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a girl! I don't have a dick, so I can't be one. Unlike you."

"Oh yeah?" He glared. "Well, you don't dress like a girl."

"So we're back to that, now? Who's to say what a girl is supposed to dress like, anyway? I can dress anyway I want. And for the record-you dressed me like this!"

"Well, somebody had to dress you. And the Salvation Army doesn't carry ball gowns, Princess!"

In retrospect, our conversation had taken a turn for the stupid. But believe me, at the time, it completely made sense. You know, unfulfilled sexual tension kind of works that way. One minute you're a rational human being, the next you're throwing out random topics for argument. Add one unexpected relative to the mix, and you've got me and Dean at that moment.

Lord knows, if we'd just had sex and been done with it the night before, none of it would have happened. But I digress.

We glared at each other; my blood thundered through my veins and pounded in my ears. If I could have ripped his head off at that moment, I would have. But I did the one thing I could do: I gathered my magic and blasted him with the worst, strongest perfume I could conjure. (I think it was Lilac and Marigolds, but I'm not quite sure. All I know is that it was the kind of scent guaranteed to give you a headache. Unless you were over the age of eighty and had a head full of gray hair. Because my eyes started to water immediately. I was just too stubborn and too angry, and probably too "Irished up" to care and de-scent him.)

"What the hell!" His nose wrinkled. "Did you just whammy me? She whammied me! I don't believe it! Change me back. Right now!"

"Go fuck yourself," I said, and sat down. "You could, you know. You smell like a girl."

"I smell like your Aunt Tilly." He made a gagging noise. "Oh my God."

"I don't have an Aunt Tilly," I muttered. "Stop complaining. At least you don't smell like ass."

"Are you saying I smelled like ass before?"

"No, but you look like one."

"Wait a fucking minute, sister..." The fire in his eyes was partially doused by the tears lining their rims. He blinked them away.

"Uh, guys…?" Sam's quiet voice filtered into our conversation. "People are starting to look at us."

"Probably because of the stench!" Dean began to gag. "I'm gonna be sick…"

"Will you idjits pipe the heck down and quell?" Bobby's louder voice put a stop to our bickering. He pulled out his phone. "I need to call Magda and tell her that her son's in the slammer."

What?

I sat there, stunned. Magda? What? I turned to Dean, who sat there fanning himself with his menu and making choking noises. "Did he just say…?"

"Oh, God," Dean answered. "This is awful. I'm gonna throw up."

"Hey Mags, it's Bobby. I've got some bad news. About Kieran." He paused. "No! Nothing like that. He's alive, and probably well. Or well enough, I suppose. Problem is, the Feds have him."

Magda. Son. Kieran? I stared across the table at the grizzled hunter.

"You better change me back," Dean hissed in my ear.

"Shut up, you douchewad," I answered, and flicked my fingers at him. There. Take that.

"Ow! Hey!" Dean yelped, and then gagged anew. "Oh...my...God."

"Dude. You seriously stink," Sam said.

"Like ass. For real." I looked down at my menu. Was it normal to feel incredibly hungry all of a sudden? I flagged the waitress; her nose wrinkled as she approached the table and got a whiff of Dean. "Can I have a waffle? With strawberries and whipped cream?"

Bobby nodded and held up two fingers to her. I was surprised that the grouch in the dingy cap would enjoy something as frou-frou as a whipped creamed and fruited waffle. Especially given the circumstances. But really, at this point I was so off-kilter, carbs were welcome. And since the flask was nearly empty...He caught my eye and gave me a smile; despite everything, I suddenly realized this was going to get worked out one way or another. Probably for the better. At least, if Bobby had a choice in the matter.

But seriously. Magda? I thought of all the Christmas gatherings at her house; she never treated Kieran like he was her son. Except...she gave him extra cookies. Because of his height, she said. Because he was bigger than everyone else and…

She smiled at him a little more. Touched his shoulder, straightened his collar, offered to trim his hair…

I thought again about how my father had reacted to John Winchester that one time.

And how my mother had reacted to hearing I was being assigned to the brothers.

Oh. Things were clicking into place.

Was this why Magda had assigned Kieran to them, too? I thought about his almost hero-worship fueled hatred of the Winchesters. Did he know? He must have! But did he know Magda was his mom?

And most importantly (to me, anyway)-why wasn't she banished?

Meanwhile, Dean and I had almost...Oh my God. I could have gotten pregnant. And then I'd have a little Winchester to hide, too.

Probably a huge little Winchester. They were all so damn tall.

I swallowed and turned to Dean, who sat glowering at me and smelling ass-y. Suddenly filled with remorse, I removed the spell.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "I'm just overwhelmed. I mean...Kieran." I shrugged. "I'm just shocked."

"Yeah, well. Don't do that again, Insult. I mean, c'mon!" He rolled his shoulders and snapped his collar with his fingers. Then he sort of hunched in his chair. "I'm sorry, too. I mean...a guy doesn't find out he's got a douchebag for a half-brother every day."

I reached out and patted his arm. "I'm sorry I punched you."

He shrugged. "It didn't really hurt."

"I know." I gave him the best smile I could muster and our eyes locked. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. For the final time, I whammied Dean a scent; I made him smell like his favorite: Apple pie.

"Ho! Knock it off, you two. None of that. Not before I've had my waffle. I don't want to lose my appetite." Bobby held the phone away from his mouth and frowned. "And you, young lady. You weren't raised to carry on like that with someone like him!"

We decided to ignore Bobby.

"I smell awesome," Dean told me.

"You look awesome," I told him, regretting that I'd suggested he looked like an ass.

"I am awesome." He grinned.

"I am—going to puke. Seriously. Knock it off," Sam said, and flagged down the waitress.

I let Dean look at his menu and turned my attention to Bobby's conversation. I realized then he was telling her where we were—and making plans to meet her at our motel. Because even though Magda had been a hands-off kind of mom before, apparently that was about to change.

Holy crap.

SO...how do you feel about Kieran, now, kids? The plot thickens. And seriously. Magda? John must have been going through an Oompa Loompa stage. Anyhow...what's going to happen next? Your guess is as good as mine...