Chapter 16: Part 2
Sam slowly and begrudgingly rises to waking, laid out on soft mattress, so he knows he's back in the bed again. He's glad that silly and small and not his dam-ding isn't in his mouth this time. But where's Ele the elephant and its ear?
He doesn't move to find it though because he doesn't want to wake up yet.
He's sleepy.
And he's had to wake up twice already.
Once to have his uncooperative arm manipulated this way and that for the X-ray, and the other to have a DEXA scan to check him for osteoporosis after Rae reviewed his X-ray.
So now he's awaiting the results of that and to have his broken arm re-aligned in surgery when Sam would rather Cas just healed him and get it over with, so they can get out of here. But Dean and Cas both won't budge where the use of their powers are concerned. Sam's latest collapse having made them even more hostile to the idea of using them.
And despite his sleepiness, he can recall his earlier behaviour easily enough, but for once he feels unapologetic. Research still lies heavily in his future, because Sam wants and needs to know why the hell the spell did this; pulled this regressive behaviour out of him when he's an adult. But right now, he has the perfect excuse for his behaviour.
He can blame it all on the heavy dose of painkillers.
It's beautiful, really.
It's just too bad it's the only time he can get away with that excuse.
Eyes still firmly closed, Sam tunes in to the murmur of voices around him. He easily recognises the harsh whispers belonging to Dean and Cas – the latter having arrived and been waiting in the room for them both upon their return from the DEXA scan. Without opening his eyes or alerting Dean to his wakefulness, Sam listens more intently to try and figure out what they could be arguing about.
"…my assistance, Dean. I wish more than anything to remain here, but if it is Rowena, we may lose our chance to talk to her without Crowley's demons immediately snatching her away."
Sam cracks his eyes open ever so slightly, enough to take in his brother and the former-angel. They are both seated – Dean still in the tall-backed rocker beside the bed Sam occupies and Cas on a hard plastic chair in front of Dean – and there is tension in both of their postures. Dean is leaning forwards, elbows resting on his knees so he is nearer to Cas to have their private conversation (especially with the topic). Though beneath one elbow looks to be a notebook Sam doesn't remember seeing earlier. And the pen in Dean's hand keeps being clicked, a sure sign of Dean's frustration.
"I get that. You've said it enough in the last two minutes alone, but Sam comes first …"
"I am putting Sam first, Dean. Crowley has given us this two week deadline …"
"Yeah, which means the second thing on our to-do list, behind getting a broken arm sorted, is getting Sammy to the Jeffries so he's protected from possession. And you're not protected from that either if you remember."
And right there Sam understands why Dean now seems to be so against Cas going to Vancouver. Not that Sam wants him to go either, but he can recognise what's going on with his brother.
Dean's mind currently has one plan set out – to protect his family.
Fiercely and unapologetically.
And that plan doesn't include Cas going off alone - even if it is to provide back up and help their own situation. The anger and brashness Dean's coping mechanism. Especially for being fought against when his mind is set on a designated path for them to travel.
Sam has often had to rise up against it. Not so much to defend his own independence, but to stall Dean's protectiveness from sliding into irrational.
It had caused many a shouting match.
"If you both shut up, you might realise there's another way," Sam interrupts just as quietly, drawing both of their immediate attention, the sight of the notebook having given him an idea he should have thought of sooner. "Although I agree with Cas," he adds quickly before either can speak, looking apologetically at his brother, who's expression hardens. Sam has to refrain from wincing and continue, "I mean, it's just, if Rowena is sensible – and unfortunately we know she is – she'll haul up in the least likely of places. She's already had a hunter dispatch a demon in Vancouver. Who'd think she'd go back there?"
"We do, obviously," Dean snarks.
"Well, yeah, we're sensible too," Sam smiles softly, trying to lessen the harshness in Dean's eyes that is darkening the green; the glare of the room's lighting making them look too dark. It works, but only slightly, and Sam still has to carry on. "But Crowley's demons sure wouldn't. At least not those still loyal to him. They're minions, they don't think for themselves."
"Alright, Sammy, I'll bite," Dean sighs, voice risen only slightly from his previous whisper. "What's that big ol' brain of yours figured out?"
"Just how we can circulate Rowena's image around the hunter network."
"We don't have a photo of her, Sam," Cas reminds.
"We don't need a photo. Just her image."
Dean opens his mouth, closes it and shakes his head, while Cas frowns. "Alright, you lost us."
"Look at it this way," Sam begins, looking directly at his brother, "I'm staring at someone who has a near photographic memory when it comes to the faces of those that make the mistake of pissing him off. Especially if they come after or hurt his family."
Dean's confusion instantly clears, his gaze dropping down to the notepad in his lap (leaving Sam wondering if Dean had done some other drawing while Sam was asleep) and the protest sails off Dean's tongue. "Oh, hell, no. You want me to draw her? I can think of a thousand and one other things I'd prefer to be doing than that."
"Oh. Okay. Well… I guess the hunter network can fumble around in the dark," Sam raises his right shoulder in a small, half shrug. "I'm sure one of them might stumble on a three-hundred year old redheaded witch at some point in the future."
Dean's eyes narrow at the blatant manipulation going on before him. He then sighs at the sight of the droopy puppy eyes staring at him. "Dammit, Sammy," Dean grumbles, unable to refute his baby brother's logic. "You're a pain in my ass, kid."
Smiling inwardly, Sam sees a small smile flitter across Cas' lips, which the man quickly and unsuccessfully tries to hide behind his hand.
"If you've figured this out – and yes it's a good idea - why are we saying Cas still needs to go?"
"Can you knock out a detailed drawing that quickly?" Sam questions, not unkindly, knowing while Dean can draw portraits brilliantly, it still takes him a couple hours to lay down an outline.
His brother a perfectionist when it comes to getting it right - especially when it comes to the drawings of monsters and creatures for their files – and Dean will be even more so with this because it's going out to the network.
Dean turns to Cas. "Fine. You can go."
Cas clines his head in acknowledgement, before standing and moving around to the other side of the bed. Sam looks up at him as Cas leans down over the safety rail. "Stay with your brother please."
"Pretty sure I'm not getting a choice in that, Cas," Sam replies, glancing at his brother who only stares back firmly, eyes telling Sam all he needs to know. "And while we're on the topic of safety… Dean's also right, Cas," Sam adds, turning back to the former-angel and ignoring the flash of a smirk he witnesses crossing his brother's lips. "You're not protected. So, can you, you know, be extra careful, please?"
"I will do my best."
"You better do better than your best or I'll kick your ass when you get back," Dean declares, eyes still focused on Sam as he makes the threat to Cas.
"He despises me really, Little One," Cas whispers against Sam's ear, the one farthest away from Dean, as he gives Sam a quick hug.
Sam smiles lightly, returning the hug. "Of course."
Cas pulls back and gives him a wink – something Sam's pretty sure the former-angel picked up from Dean – before placing a kiss on Sam's forehead. "Behave."
"Sit. Stay," Sam grumbles.
"Woof," Cas responds and Sam can't help chuckling this time.
It tapers off quickly as Dean and Cas look at each other but say nothing. Cas turns, crossing to the door, and after opening it, steps out before drawing it closed.
And Sam suddenly feels bereft, as if part of him was just torn away, but he turns to his brother. "Dean …"
"Leave it, Sam," Dean sighs, leaning back in the rocker.
And Sam does. As much as he tries to get Dean to talk, he knows when to leave well enough alone too and just leave the man to his own thoughts. But it doesn't mean Sam can't show his presence and support, and gain the comfort he also needs. So he curls the fingers of his right hand into the fabric of Dean's closest jacket sleeve. Dean doesn't react and Sam hadn't expected him to, but his fingers aren't removed.
"So… any chance you bought pencils with my markers?" Sam asks after a long silence, "You can sketch while I drive to Seattle."
Dean turns his head to the side to stare at him, not quite ready for a smile or a snort to slip out. "There's not a chance in hell you're getting behind Baby's wheel with a cast on your arm."
"I managed it before," Sam pouts.
"And the dumpster rudely said hello when it didn't jump out of the way of my car in time, right?"
"There was a three foot wide cat I had to swerve out the way of, Dean," Sam protests around a yawn. "I'm pretty sure it was a miniature tiger or a wildcat, you know. That wouldda done more damage to 'Pala than that dumpster did."
A small smile finally flitters across Dean's lips, the man shaking his head at the not-so-true story.
"Sammy, you keep putting that ear in your mouth I'm gonna take the elephant away," Dean scolds mildly, when the kid goes to do just that.
Sam stills, mouth unconsciously reaching out for the ear and blinks at Dean, pulling the toy closer to his chest and shaking his head.
"No you're not going to put it in your mouth or no I'm not taking it away?"
"Um… both?"
"Why don't you give this another try?" Dean questions, holding out the pacifier Sam seems to despise.
"No. Not mine, De."
"All right." Dean sets it back on the bookshelf, nipple facing up, and recalling how territorial Sammy used to be about having only his own pacifiers. The reason he used to have to hunt high and low for the 'dam-dings'. And from what he's witnessed so far, he's looking at repeat performances.
Except now he can afford pacifier clips, he reminds himself, something he couldn't afford when Sammy was younger.
"So, did I hear right that Crowley's given us two weeks to find Rowena?" Sam questions, having gathered that much from Dean and Cas' prior conversation.
He hadn't been able to hear all that much back at the building when he was hanging upside down.
Save for when Crowley was yelling.
Dean sighs, drawing himself back to 'adult conversation' mode as he shifts himself around in the rocker so he's facing Sam. The kid seems to be shifting more smoothly between 'adult' and 'kid' since accepting his pacifier back in that building. It can throw Dean for a moment, but like everything else, he's had plenty of practice shifting gears where this kid is concerned.
"Yep. A whole two weeks. Fourteen days. Including today."
"Maybe you should follow Cas, get out there …" Sam begins, only to fall silent at the fierce glare his brother levels at him.
"Don't even think about it, Sam. I'm not leaving here until you do, so get that outta your head right now."
"But …"
"No. There are no buts here, Samuel. Save yours in that bed. And mine in this chair. Am I clear?"
"Yeah, you're clear," Sam responds, letting out a deep sigh. "I'm guessing I don't wanna know what'll happen if we don't meet Crowley's deadline."
"No," Dean responds tightly, eyes unconsciously flickering to Sam's arm held in the sling. "You really don't."
"But I should."
Dean sighs again, hand reaching out to brush Sam's hair back from his forehead, thumb brushing down his cheek. "Yeah. Don't mean I gotta like you knowing."
"You wouldn't be you if you weren't trying to protect me," Sam replies quietly, honestly.
Dean gives him a half-smile. "Damn straight."
"And speaking of protecting me… there's no real need to give me a spanking now, right?"
Dean's eyebrow rises. "There's not, huh? So tell me something, kiddo. Were you naughty this morning?"
"Naughty is such a varied word, Dean, it …"
"Sam."
"Yes," Sam huffs, really wanting to cross his arms across his chest, but unable to do so. "I was naughty this morning," he admits, face flushing at the childish word.
"Then can you tell me if you're still due a spanking?"
Sam nibbles at his bottom lip as he nods slowly. "But not here, right?"
"Nope. You're gonna get it that's for sure, but not here," Dean assures. "We're getting your arm fixed up and we'll deal with what these DEXA results might bring …"
"And the protection tat," Sam whispers, all too clearly aware his procrastinating on the tattoo front has now been forced to an abrupt end.
Ideally, he would like to be able to say 'sure, let's get to it' without his fear overriding logic. That he could push aside the memories of millions of long and thick needles piercing every inch of his body. The devil had been inside Sam's head – Lucifer knew every fear and exploited each and every one.
Daily tortures Lucifer had revelled in.
Sam would have done anything for the long years to stop and then it did. He awoke back in his body, the familiar and hated iron walls of Uncle Bobby's panic room surrounding him, with no memory other than a sense he'd been gone for days. Only to find out he had in actuality been gone for eighteen months, a wall of Death's design holding back his hell memories, and those of his soulless body's actions.
Sam sometimes wishes he was made of stone, so those memories and fears no longer have any impact or hold over him. But he is not made of stone. Just as Dean isn't. Though his brother often likes to think he is. They both have emotions; fears and mental scars that run deep.
However, neither one of them is made of glass either.
"For obvious reasons I haven't pushed you to get the tattoo redone, Sammy," Dean starts, even though he is more than aware that no matter his own failings on the issue, he should have pushed.
Sam can be too stubborn for his own good sometimes, and while Dean recognises the kid's fear of needles having been a major factor against getting the tattoo redone, it is still not a good enough excuse. On either of their parts. They know the outcome if not protected. That was visibly and horrifyingly made all too clear today.
"But it's a decision that is no longer yours to make. I hate having to force the issue like this, kiddo, but we haven't been left any other option."
"I get it, Dean," Sam says quietly, fingers squeezing around Dean's jacket until the man fully meets his eyes. "I get it," he reiterates.
Because he does.
Dean makes the hard choices and steps in when Sam is unable to make those choices for himself. Dean has done it his whole life, and it has taken Sam a long time to understand that Dean will never be any other way. His big brother will forever be his protector. And sometimes, Dean does things in Sam's best interest, especially when Sam cannot see it himself.
And no matter how angry it can make him.
But he feels no anger for this decision; actually feels lightened that Dean has taken it away from him. Because Sam said it himself, he has procrastinated for over two years and he knows he would continue to do so for as long as he could get away with it.
But now he will do what is necessary. He just cannot make any promises as to how he'll react once faced with that chair and tattoo gun.
"You been researching while I've been sleeping?" Sam questions, shifting in the bed to ease his numb bum, wanting to draw both their minds away from the tattoo, at least for now.
"Yep." Dean shakes his head. "Seems every step we're taking lately is only resulting in nothing but new stuff to research."
"What'd you mean? I know we got the spell and that vortex …" Sam shudders at just mentioning that thing. "What else we got?"
"This." Dean opens his notebook and flicks through it a couple pages before holding it up to show Sam.
He had been right when he thought Dean had been sketching in that notebook. Two wolf-like beasts are sketched in pen on the page, one slightly larger than the other. Wolf-like, because while they resemble traditional wolves, there are slight differences. Bodies, while probably the size equivalent of the Grey Wolf or slightly larger, the heads are massive, making it look like a giant wolf, with longer and wider snouts and tall ears.
"Where did you see them?"
Dean explains the happenings back at the building Sam was being held. Filling in several blanks for Sam. Like the bigger of the two wolves swallowing that vortex creature, the cause of the things screeching that had resulted in the abrasions now in Sam's ears. He frowns at hearing they can turn invisible – just like hellhounds. That being what Dean first thought they were.
And Sam cannot hold back his laughter as Dean tells of how the bigger of the two wolves sunk its teeth into Crowley's bottom. He has to hold his left arm with his right just to stop it jarring.
"I wish I'd seen that," Sam gets out once his chuckles taper off.
"I really wanted to laugh at the time, Sammy, but I was a little more preoccupied," Dean says, using the moment to expend that wanted laughter. "I was thinking they could be some kinda wolf-hellhound hybrid. But that just generated fictional game character results. Giant wolf brought up direwolves …"
"Venator," Sam whispers.
Dean frowns at hearing the Latin, and while not as fluent in the dead language as Sam, he knows enough. And he definitely knows the English translation of that word.
"Hunter," he states. "What's that got to do with them?"
"Err …" Sam feels his face heat. "I was kinda curious one day about-about the direwolves in Game of Thrones. And seen as we have such an awesome archive, I wanted to know if there was a supernatural equivalent to the real life direwolf of the Ice Age …"
"You are such a geek, little brother," Dean chuckles fondly.
"Anyway…" Sam stresses with a mild glare at his brother. Chuckling once more, Dean waves for him to go on. "There were a couple supernatural species', but the one that stuck out the most was a species called Venator. They most resembled the build and features of a direwolf."
"And these Venator, they have supernatural abilities?"
Sam nods, eyes glazing over as he goes internal to recall information he read a couple years back. While he does, Dean inputs 'Venator' into the search engine on the tablet. As suspected it draws up businesses, the English meaning, Star Wars. He adds 'supernatural wolf' to the search and gets a distinctly different set of results. He turns into his brother's words as Sammy starts talking while he continues his own search.
"Okay, so I remember reading that they can use both light and shadows to their advantage. They don't disappear as much as they blend into their surroundings. Like chameleons. They can absorb supernatural – like other creatures for example. They supposedly store it in a kind of pouch within their bellies and spew it out later to kill." Sam pulls a disgusted face, his fingers intermittently squeezing the elephant in his hold and brushing over the fur. "There's a few other things, but from your explanation of events, I'm guessing some of that sounds familiar."
"Definitely," Dean says, glancing up at him before looking back to the tablet in his hand and the small amount of information he had been able to pull up while listening to Sammy. "Says here that the last known sighting was around a hundred years ago though."
"Yeah," Sam recalls. "It's why they're thought to have been wiped out."
"Guess that explains why Crowley was so freaked out when he saw them. So where'd they come from?"
Sam shrugs. "Where does anything we deal with come from?"
"There's another name for them," Dean says reading another paragraph down the screen. "Amicus Venator."
"Hunter friend," Sam translates the Latin easily, scrubbing an eye against the elephant's fur. "As in… 'friend to hunters'?" He questions through a yawn and Dean decides it's time they draw this impromptu research session to a close.
"All right, little man, time to get some more shut-eye."
"Aww, Dean, I've done nothing but sleep," Sam complains. "And I'm gonna be sleeping soon for my surgery."
"That's not a true sleep, kiddo. The more rest you get now, the less sleepy you'll be after. Do you want a story?"
Sam nods. "Can you sit on the bed with me this time?"
#SPN#
Sitting sideways in the rocker so Sammy can see him more easily and notebook in hand, Dean tries not to rip the irritating and bulky brace off his knee that Rae supplied upon inspecting it. Something he had declined, but she had insisted upon, putting up a good argument as to why he should keep his knee in a brace for a week and seek some physiotherapy. Neither one of them speaking of their earlier words and carrying on as if it never happened.
And while she looked him over, he'd set a pot of colouring bits down in front of Sammy, setting the boy the task of finding him some pencils for his drawing of that skank whore. And Sammy had come through, finding a whole pack of HB pencils. With a quick glance up to check on Sammy, Dean continues to brush one of those pencils across the page in the room's limited lighting.
It's nearing nine P.M. and all but fresh from his surgery his kid is not sleeping, just resting on the bed with the elephant tucked against his chest while they wait for Sammy's late dinner to be prepared. Happier now that the cannula no longer resides in his hand as he suckles heavily on the soft spout of the sippy-cup Stefan had brought in ten minutes ago. The beauty of the cup not allowing more than a few drops at a time so that Sammy doesn't intake too much at once. The kid prone to puking after anaesthesia if he guzzles down water too quickly.
So far there have been no upchucking incidents. Not that Sammy has anything in his stomach to throw up.
Dean glances up when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye, hand going to the knife in his boot while his head snaps around towards the room door. He smiles, relaxing upon seeing Cas quietly sneaking in the door. His partner deposits the two plastic carrier's in his hold on a sideboard near the door before stepping further into the room, offering a smile to Dean.
"Is he asleep?" the former-angel whispers.
"Cas!"
Considering the kid only woke from his anaesthesia a half hour ago and has only the use of one arm, Sammy is down at the end of the bed, up on his knees and leaning against the footboard like a shot at the sight of the former-angel's return.
"Shh, Sammy, it's late, baby," Dean scolds mildly, depositing the flung sippy-cup he had caught onto the bed while scooping his baby up before he can tumble over the footboard in his excitement and seats him on his hip. "Other patients are sleeping."
"Shh," Sammy whispers while putting a finger to his lip.
Cas smiles at their sweet little one as he steps forward and presses a kiss to Sam's forehead. He has missed his child and his partner terribly, even during such a short absence. Thankfully, Dean has kept him apprised of Sam's condition while he had assisted Kara. At least as little assistance as she had needed by the time he had reached Kara's location.
Sam squishes his elephant under his arm, hoping the reunion of his brother and Cas goes smoother than the way they left it on Cas' departure. He is therefore surprised when both men lean forward together and press a kiss to each other's lips as if nothing happened earlier.
"It's called texts, baby boy," Dean supplies upon noticing his kid's confused expression.
It takes a moment to figure out what his brother is talking about, but then it sinks in and Sam rolls his eyes. Seriously. They apologised to each other over texts? No doubt while Sam was sleeping so he couldn't ask any questions. Typical Dean.
"Doctor Rae fixed my owie," he says, changing the subject so he can show off the neon orange cast now encasing his left thumb, hand and forearm up to his elbow. "And we're gonna leave soon."
"Sammy, we'll be leaving after you've eaten something and pooped," Dean reminds.
"Why you gotta mention that?" Sammy whines, embarrassed, burying his face in Dean's neck.
"Little One, you have no need to be embarrassed about a natural bodily function around me and your brother," Cas reminds. "You certainly hold no embarrassment around us when you pass gas."
Sammy giggles against Dean's neck at Cas' bluntness. Dean winks at the other man who smiles his achievement.
All three still as the door opens, and Stefan enters carrying a tray. "One yummy salmon and cheese potato dinner for the young calf."
"Calf?" Cas queries.
"It's what they call elephant babies." Sam supplies with a roll of his eyes as he draws himself away from Dean's neck, holding up the toy elephant to show Cas. "Stef thinks he's being cute."
Stefan laughs, setting Sam's tray down on the table ready to roll it over Sam's bed. "I am cute," he replies with a wink.
"Are you flirting with my child?" Cas demands, confused by the interaction, while Sam's mouth drops open and Stefan straightens, meeting Cas' stern blue eyes.
But Dean laughs lightly. "Stefan's just playing, Cas," he calmly says, placing a hand on his partner's arm and giving a squeeze. "Bantering. Like me and Sammy do."
"Oh." The fire in Cas' eyes cools upon Dean's explanation. "I apologise, Stefan. I have been told I sometimes have a tendency to take things …"
"Literally," Sam and Dean chorus taking the word from Cas' mouth.
"Stefan, this is Cas," Dean introduces. "Cas, this is Stefan, the guy who helped us out on the road this afternoon."
Dropping his arm from Sam's back, Cas crosses straight to a surprised Stefan and stretches out his hand. "Thank you for helping my family," Cas voice is now filled with gratitude.
Letting a smile free, Stefan takes the outstretched hand and shakes it. "Just doing my job, man."
"Hmm, I hear that often from others," Cas' states with a glance towards Sam and Dean.
"Time for dinner," Dean announces, swiftly moving away from that topic as he deposits Sammy back on the bed.
But he doesn't miss the small smile on Stefan's lips as the nurse leaves them to it. And not for the first time today Dean has to wonder if the man is one of the clinics staff members aware of what they do. He just isn't willing to up and ask.
Dean pulls Sam's fingers out of the cheese sauce accompanying the salmon, broccoli and sliced potatoes on his plate. "You want this mixed up, Sammy?"
Sam nods, sucking the sauce from his fingers. Cas seats himself in the free space between footboard and safety rail on the left side of the bed. Finished with cutting and mixing up Sammy's food, Dean swallows a mouthful of the coke he'd grabbed from the clinics cafeteria during Sam's surgery, a burp bubbling up and escaping him loudly as he screws the lid back on.
Cas stares at him amused and Sammy just continues sticking his fingers in his sauce. Dean once again pulls the fingers away.
"It's not for playing with, Sammy," he scolds, before scooping up a small spoonful. He holds the spoon to Sam's mouth, the kid accepting it in without fuss.
"I likes broc'li," Sam states between chewing, cheese sauce dribbling down his chin.
And without a bib on it drips down onto the scrub top Dean had put the kid in earlier after Sammy woke from his surgery. Now glad he had decided against putting him in his new pyjamas.
"Please do not talk with your mouth full of food, Little One," Cas chides mildly.
Sam snaps his mouth closed to finish chewing while Dean turns back from grabbing the pack of baby wipes off the bookshelf behind him. He dumps them on the bed ready to clean up Sammy once he's finished eating, raising an eyebrow at Cas' disapproving gaze directed at him.
"What? I didn't teach him that," Dean defends himself, although technically he probably did. He's not known for his own table manners.
Sam opens his mouth for more. Dean obliges, making sure not to overfill each spoonful as Sam's stomach has been empty for a while, and especially not on top of having the anaesthesia. He would like to get Sammy out of here without having had any puking incidents.
Within minutes, Sam's plate is empty save for the dregs of sauce, which Sammy is delighting in swirling his fingers around in again. And Dean would like to say the kid isn't any messier than the original drop of cheese sauce on the scrub top, but he'd be lying. The kid's chin and cheeks are now smeared with sauce and bits of broccoli and several more dribbles now decorate the scrubs.
Sam whines when his fingers are pulled out of the sauce and scrunches his face, trying to squirm away as Dean cleans his face and the hand not encased in a cast.
Cas pulls the table away, ensuring Sam can no longer stick his fingers in the remaining sauce on his plate and parks it off to the side. And after balling up the dirty wipe and bulls-eyeing it onto Sam's plate, Dean leans down to look in Sammy's eyes.
"Who feels up to getting into some new pj's?"
"Me," Sammy smiles, holding his arms up to Dean, who scoops him up. "Be back in minute, Cas."
"I shall be right here upon you're return, Little One."
"Okeydokey," Sam yawns as Dean carries him into the bathroom along with the bag holding the new pyjamas.
Setting Sam on the open toilet seat, Dean removes the scrub pants fully. "Try and go potty, baby."
But Sammy doesn't need any encouragement, his bladder opening up even as Dean says the words.
Pulling the pyjamas from the carrier, Dean removes them from their packaging. Along with the pair of socks and boxer-briefs. And though the kid is now back to briefs, these were apparently the only underwear Cas could find in Sammy's size in the small store he'd visited. Which is fine until they get back to the motel. They have fresh underwear there, even if none other items of Sam's clothing is clean.
Sam stands from the toilet, finished with his business and Dean strips the scrub top off of him. He really should give the kid a wash, but that can wait as well until they're back at the motel.
"Jammies," Sam snatches the top from Dean's fingers and Dean is about to scold him when Sam's face lights up, big grin spreading across his lips. "Iron Man jammies!" The kid bounces on his toes, spinning the top around to show him the picture of Iron Man mid-flight on the front. "Look, De!"
Dean smiles as Sam, clearly finished showing him, cuddles the shirt to his now bare chest. He's glad Cas did good with the clothes shopping by himself this go around. "I see, buddy. What say we get it on ya?"
"Oh yeah," Sammy giggles, flourishing the shirt at Dean.
He takes it and first gets the kids arms in it, happy the left sleeve passes easily over the cast, before he puts it over Sam's head and down his upper body. The kid smooths a hand over Iron Man on the front, still grinning.
After getting the underwear on the kid, he takes the pyjama pants out of the packaging, shaking them out. He thinks they might be a little too big around the waist, and slightly too short in the legs. He's proved right once he gets them up Sam's legs, sitting them at his waist. Luckily the bottoms have a drawstring around the waist and he's able to secure them with a tug and a knot.
The socks follow and even though the pyjama pants only reach Sammy's ankles, the kid doesn't care as he steps out of the bathroom and displays his 'jammies' to Cas. Cas beams and lifts Sam back up onto the bed before settling himself back where he rose from and wriggles Sam's toes.
Dean lowers the right side safety rail and seats himself on the bed behind Sam. His kid leans back against him the moment he's settled, shifting around to get comfortable. A large yawn he doesn't bother to cover escapes the boy.
"Well someone looks like a very sleepy boy," Cas notes, standing to remove his coat before lowering the safety rail on his side so he can bring his legs up onto the bed once he sits back down.
"'M'not. Had lots sleep already," Sam grumbles, sticking his fingers in his mouth and suckling on them.
Dean wants to pull them away and replace them with the borrowed pacifier, but the kid still won't accept the thing when he's awake.
Sam tilts his head to the side, staring at Cas' shirt pocket curiously. "Wassat?" he points a wet finger.
"This?" Cas pats his pocket.
"Uh-huh," Sammy mutters before gasping as what looks to be the head of a small and soft dinosaur pokes its head up out of Cas' shirt pocket. Sam looks to Dean, eyes questioning if he saw it.
Dean smiles, and leans down, asking quietly, "What is it, Sammy?"
Sam points and Dean watches as the toy pokes its head up again, Cas' hidden fingers moving it.
"Whoa," Dean breathes slowly, turning wide eyes back to Sammy. "Awesome."
Sam bursts into giggles.
Dean and Cas both laugh at his genuine joy, Cas pulling the toy from his pocket and holding it out to Sam. The boy readily takes it, stroking a finger over the back of the brown and cream soft toy plush fashioned in the form of a baby Apatosaurus.
"Littlefoot," Sam smiles, naming one of his favourite characters from The Land Before Time movies he had talked Cas into watching with him those two weeks he had been grounded.
Though if Dean remembers correctly, it hadn't taken much persuading to get Cas to watch. By the time the first movie ended he was just as hooked as Sammy. Something the two can share, because Dean has never been taken with the movies, especially for what happens in the beginning of the first. He had watched for Sammy's sake only. And the only reason Dean even knows the type of sauropod the character is, is because his little geek-boy would correct it every time the character was referred to as a brontosaurus or a brachiosaurus. It got annoying after the hundredth time.
"I thought he held a resemblance," Cas notes, smiling.
"Oh, he does," Sammy nods. "Thank you, Cas," Sam leans forwards, wrapping his good arm around Cas while keeping his casted arm close to his chest.
"You are very welcome, Monkey," Cas responds, returning the hug, eyes locking on Dean, questioning whether his use of the moniker is agreeable.
Dean nods, the smile on Sammy's face shy and pleased as he snuggles back against him.
"I gots a Littlefoot, De," Sammy whispers.
Dean drops a kiss onto his head, rubbing his back, hard-pressed to keep the emotion at bay at the happiness wrapped up in that simple statement. Because true to form, the kid never made mention of how much he wanted a Littlefoot toy as a youngster. But Dean had known. And as much as he had wished for Sammy to have such a simple toy, any toys they didn't already have fell last on the list of expenses when some days they could barely afford to pay for food.
And Cas probably isn't even aware just how happy he's made their little guy.
#SPN#
Dean's eyes snap open at the sound of the soft knock on the door, glancing down at the boy on his chest to see him sleeping peacefully. Looking to his watch, he notes that only a half hour has passed since he was up with Sammy while the kid pooped for the first time since his surgery.
He looks to the door as it is opened only partially, preventing the light of the corridor from entering the low-lit room too much.
"Dean?" Rae whispers. "You awake?"
"Yeah," Dean whispers back, carefully sliding himself out from beneath Sammy and laying him down on the pillow instead. The kid shifts, fingers twitching around his Littlefoot, but he doesn't wake.
"Dean?" Cas whispers groggily, sitting up slightly from his less than comfortable position on the bed.
"Rae wants to talk to me," Dean responds just as quietly. "Stay with Sammy."
Cas nods, swiping at his eyes and sitting up fully to stretch the kink out of his back, deciding half-sitting up is not the best way to sleep.
"Hey," Dean says when he steps out into the corridor, pulling the door too behind him. He scrubs his hands over his face to wake himself up a little. "Everything okay?"
Rae nods. "I just know that since Sam has had a successful bowel movement, you'll probably want to get out of here as soon as possible." She holds out several sheets of paper to him, the sheets stapled together in one corner. "Sam's discharge papers. But you're more than welcome to stay here until the morning, Dean, if that's what you want to do. I'm still waiting on the DEXA results, but as soon as I get them I'll let you know."
"Thanks, Rae. For everything."
"It's my job. And you know I'll do anything for you boys. Especially the cute baby-faced one."
Dean chuckles tiredly, drawing her into a hug. "I'm sorry about earlier," he whispers against her ear.
"Me too," she replies just as quietly, knowing he isn't apologising for threatening Lij's life, but if he upset her. "I'll keep him in line. I promise. And Dean," she draws away, though still remaining in the circle of his arms, so she can look in eyes that are tired but much softer than earlier. "Cas seems like a good guy. The little I spoke to him, it sounds like he really cares about you and Sam." She leans up and kisses his cheek before stepping back out of his arms. "Anything you need, don't hesitate to call. Oh, and if you're near my folks on Thursday you should swing by for dinner."
"What's Thursday?" Dean questions confused.
"Thanksgiving."
"That's this week?" Dean questions, surprised. He hadn't thought it was that late in November already. But Rae nods. "Huh." Dean rubs the back of his neck. "As much as I appreciate the invite, Rae, we got a situation we need to take care of pretty a-sap."
"I get that. Hopefully when I do see you boys again, it won't be in my clinic. Bye, Dean."
"See ya, Rae."
#SPN#
Rae watches the taillights of the Impala disappear from her view and into the darkness, the beauty of her large office residing on the top floor allowing her views of both the courtyard and the parking lot. She sighs, crossing to her desk and taking a seat behind it. She brings up Sam's X-ray, zooming into the image for what feels like the thousandth time.
"That little boy might as well be the Aurora Borealis, Rae," Stefan says, entering her office without knocking, which is about usual for the witch.
Rae sighs gravely at the news. "So there'll be no hiding him then."
"Nope. I doubt even the twins have the power to cover him up. Is that what I think it is?" Stefan questions, handing over the second coffee in his hold to her before resting back against the dresser behind them both.
"Unfortunately," she responds, setting the coffee down on her desk coaster. "What did you see with Sam?"
"Honestly? Nothing. Save for the blinding light of his aura. When I found them out on the street, it wasn't until Dean grabbed my hand that I even knew he was there as well. And that aura… wow, if I didn't know any better I'd say at least some of it is infused with grace."
"It very well could be. The boy was inhabited by two angels," she continues at Stefan's raised eyebrow. "One of whom was an archangel. It leaves traces." She taps several keys on her keyboard so the X-ray appears in the central plasma in a wall of many.
"But traces can be re… holy shit," Stefan gasps, rising as the single image becomes several hundred, all revealing the same thing on different areas of a skeletal structure.
"Holy shit is about right," Rae replies quietly, nervously biting at her bottom lip, because the last thing she had ever expected to find when she walked into work today was the Mark of Cain seared into every last one of Sam Winchester's bones.
#SPN#
A/N: It would be lovely to hear what you all thought, so if you could hit review and leave a little comment that would be awesome :)