A/N: As usual thanks for reviews, follows and favourites. You guys really know how to keep a narcissistic egomaniac on her toes. Thanks :D

Shout out to the usual suspects Bearberry915 (who is fast becoming my partner in crime), Misha Collins (who's pretending to be Casismyfavorite) and Aliniah whom I missed this week.

Part 7.3

Jimmy always woke up at the crack of dawn. Mr. Brady sent them to bed without food most nights, and he couldn't sleep on an empty stomach.

He stood up and looked at Nicky and Claire. Nicky was facing away from him, his arms stretched under the bed. Claire was nowhere to be seen. He chuckled to himself, it didn't really bother him. Nicky always insisted on sleeping with the lights on. And Claire hated it, so she always crawled under the bed, where it was dark… safe.

He snuck out of the room and into the bathroom. He showered using very little hot water. Nicky never used hot water. Mr. Brady didn't like it when they did. He had cried the first time he had to take a cold shower, but Nicky told him that in olden days the Indians just jumped in rivers and ponds to clean up. It made the bones strong… besides only little pussies like Tommy needed hot water to shower. Big boys never did. And he was a big boy, but not as big as Nicky. So he used only a little hot water. They used hot water for Claire because she was a baby and could get sick.

Then he snuck into the kitchen. He tried to be as quiet as he could when he filtered through the stale bread, fishing out the softest slices. Mrs. Brady was a kind woman but she was scared of her husband and son. She had told them that if they were caught taking food without permission, they would be in trouble. Which Nicky had explained meant they could take what they needed as long as they didn't get caught. But he insisted on taking only what Brady wouldn't miss, like old bread, because they threw it away, and milk, because it came in a closed box. He said not to bother with butter. Jim took the milk from the fridge and carefully poured only a sip, enough for Claire, and replaced the carton exactly as it was.

He carried the bread, milk and glass of water upstairs, promising himself, like he did every day, that when he grew up, his family would never have to eat stale food again. He would get freshest bread and lots of butter… maybe even peanut butter and jelly, because Anna said it was the best. And he would make softest pancakes for Claire, like mom did, and lots and lots of scrambled eggs for Nicky because he liked them. Maybe he would become a cooker, "no, chef," he corrected himself, like he saw on TV at the Miltons.

He set the plate on his bed and shook Nicky awake. "Wake up, Nicky. Time for breakfast," he said poking his brother lightly. Nick winced but his eyes remained closed. Jimmy let him be. He must be hurting still. He reached under the bed for Claire. His hands could not reach her. So he looked down. She wasn't there. He panicked a little, she never crawled far. But maybe she had found a new corner to hide. He looked under his bed, beneath the old dresser, anywhere else he could think of. There weren't that many places in their room for a 3 year old to hide.

He went outside and looked everywhere, calling out her name softly. She knew she should never leave the room without either of them around, but she was getting a little restless of late. Maybe she had walked outside and fell asleep somewhere. He searched upstairs –Brady's room was closed from inside but Tommy's was open. He looked inside it… even though he knew he could get into trouble, Claire was more important than anything, but she wasn't there. He checked the kitchen, living room, the bathroom. The main door was locked, so she couldn't have gone out.

He sat on the stairs, head in his hands, wondering how he could tell Nicky he had lost Claire – It was his job to keep her safe, when Nicky couldn't. They were a team, both of them – when he saw the main door open and Tommy sneak back in.

Tommy had gone out and Claire was missing. It could only mean one thing. Tommy had taken Claire. He had taken her and done something to her. He wanted to know what Tommy had done to her. He stood up, straightened his shoulders and walked up to the bigger boy.

Tommy stopped in his tracks. "What do you want?" he hissed, clearly in a hurry to get up to his room.

"Where's she?" Jimmy asked with a rare bravado. "What have you done to her?"

"What are you talking about?" Tommy asked looking a little confused.

"My sister. Claire," Jimmy asked again, his voice steadier. "What did you do to her? Where is she? Tell me." He reached up and grabbed the larger boy's collar. He barely reached Tommy's chest, but his anger made him feel 10 feet tall.

Tommy laughed and shook him away. "Sold her. Even got money for it," he sneered. "What do you care?"

Jimmy felt his blood boil. He pushed hard at the larger boy's chest. "Don't talk about my sister like that," he cried, pushing once again with all his strength.

Tommy fell back a step and laughed. "Oh yeah? What're you gonna do big boy?" he taunted. "Hit me? C'mon sissy. Hit me. Show me what you got. M sure someone's fucking your whore of a sister right about now."

Rage coursed through Jimmy, filling his every pore. He couldn't think straight. He lunged at Tommy with all his strength. Tommy fell on his back, Jimmy on top of him. Something crashed to the floor. Jimmy started pounding into his face with all strength, surprise rendering the large boy temporarily incapacitated.

Tommy recovered quickly and bodily flung Jim away. Jimmy scrambled up, but Tommy was on him, punching and kicking. He started screaming for his big brother. He kept screaming until someone jerked Tommy away. He scrambled to his feet and saw his brother standing over his attacker.

"Don't you dare touch him," Nick snarled, kicking Tommy in the stomach. Tommy cried out in pain. Nick kicked him again. Tommy reached out and pulled Nick down with him. They grappled on the floor, Jimmy shouting behind them that Tommy had stolen Claire and sold her somewhere.

The ruckus woke Brady and he walked out eyes bloodshot and head pounding with hangover. He saw that lunatic bastard hitting his only son and the sissy goading him on. He had his belt out even before he reached them, and the first whip landed on both the boys. Tom yelped and scrambled to his feet, backing away from the whips. The second one landed on the bastard's stomach. The boy cried out in pain, a shrill voice that cut through his head, incensing him further. He hauled the boy to his feet and backhanded him across the face, hard.

Nick backed a few steps, his eyes landing on his younger brother. "Jimmy," Nick said, his voice as steady as he could keep it, "Upstairs, now" as a whip landed at his side. He flinched but didn't move.

"Nicky…"

"NOW!" he hollered. Even Brady flinched.

Jimmy ran upstairs, but Tommy caught up with him. "You wanna be a big boy, sissy?" he mocked, pulling him back but Jimmy bit his hand and kicked him in the knee. Then he was in the safety of his room, locking the door behind him, crying against it. He heard Nicky's screams from below, they hadn't even bothered with the radio. He sat for a long time, cowering at the noise… the screams died down, but he still could hear the whips.

They would kill him. If he didn't do something… they would kill him. He couldn't lose Nicky like he had lost Claire. He started opening the door to go and find help, but if he went back they would catch him and he wouldn't be able to help Nicky.

He took a deep breath and went to the window. He was afraid of heights, they made him dizzy. But he had no choice. He closed his eyes and prayed to his mom to watch over him. He climbed out onto the thin ledge and scrambled towards the rusty pipeline that reached the ground. He didn't look as he made his way down, praying with all his heart, goading himself to put one hand below another, one foot below another, like he had seen Nicky do. He could hear Nicky's soft whimpers from inside and forced himself to shut out the noise. He jumped the last few steps and twisted his ankle, but he didn't stop to think about it.

He ran, as fast as his small legs could carry him, to the next house. An old lady lived there with her many cats. He pounded on the door with all his strength, screaming "Help" at the top of his voice. The old lady took a lot of time opening door… lot of precious time.

"What's wrong?" she asked grouchily, irritated at being woken mid-sleep.

"Help," he panted. "Help please. They'll kill him. They'll kill…" he couldn't complete the sentence, but the lady understood. She stepped back and told him to call the cops.

He told the operator what was going and she said she would send someone immediately. By the time he was finished, the lady was beside him giving them the address. He wanted to go back, but the lady kept him with her, saying it wasn't safe for him to go back without the cops.

The cops – an old black man and a woman – showed up 5 minutes later, and without further comment were running to Brady's house with him. They barged in without knocking and saw Brady and Tom standing over bleeding Nicky, writhing on the floor in pain. They put Mr. Brady in cuffs, but Tommy managed to escape through the back door. The woman officer caught up with him and cuffed him. They even cuffed Mrs. Brady, who was still high and spaced out. Then they waited with him until Ms. Maria and Peter showed up.

Nick was still unconscious when the orderlies carried him into the ambulance and took them both to the hospital. Peter said he would bring their stuff around later. After they made sure he wasn't hurt badly, Nicky needed stitches and a blood transfusion, he told them how Tommy had said he had sold their sister and all that happened to them at the Brady's.

Seconds later, Peter was on the phone. He came back and said that they were swearing that they hadn't touched the little girl, and that the boys were lying. But with everything else against them, no one was ready to believe it.

Ms. Maria then took him to the cafeteria and asked him to choose what he wanted to eat. He didn't. Not with Claire missing and Nicky lying up there like that. But she reasoned that if he wanted to take care of his brother, he had to keep his strength, which meant he had to eat something. So he got toast… made of fresh bread. And butter… lots of butter. He even took some for Nicky for when he woke up.

Jimmy was at his brother's side when he woke up. Nick smiled weakly at him. "Finally found a way to get you to the hospital, didn't I?" he asked.

Jimmy had always wanted to visit a hospital, because he really liked how they took care of people there. Just like he took care of Nicky when he was hurt. He thought Nurse Esther had an interesting job. Sometimes he wanted to become a nurse when he grew up.

He smiled back weakly and scrambled into his brother's bed. Nick winced, but let his younger brother hug him. "I'm sorry, Nicky," he cried in his brother's neck. "I'm sorry I lost Claire. I couldn't take care of her. I'm sorry. It's my fault she's gone."

"It's not your fault," Nick replied quietly. "It's not your fault…" he repeated, steadying his voice. He couldn't tell Jimmy where she was, Jimmy would want to bring her back and he couldn't have that, but he could assure his brother she was safe. "It's not your fault, baby. She's safe, I promise. She's safe. She's with the people who love her and they'll take good care of her. I promise," he said, praying that Rev. Milton would love her as much as he loved his own daughter.

Jimmy cried till he passed out from exhaustion and slept holding his big brother… wanting to believe what Nicky said was true. He prayed it was… he prayed every day.

Cas blinked his eyes open and gently caressed the warm hand on his stomach. The man beside him breathed softly into his neck. He was always up at the crack of dawn, but his fiancé didn't like waking up alone, so he just kept lying beside him.

He hadn't been able to sleep last night. After the initial shock wore off, he thought about what Nick had done. He was angry at Nick… very angry. For 22 years, he had believed it was his fault Claire was gone. That he had failed his family somehow. He had carried this burden for 22 years and now, he learned that Nick knew all along. He could never forgive Nick for what he did.

He heard Dean mumble something in his sleep. He smiled to himself, and turned his head to press a kiss into the dirty blonde hair, wondering what he had done to deserve a man like his Major. When he broke down, Major didn't say a word, he just kept holding him till he stopped crying. Then he tried to talk sense into him.

"He wasn't wrong, you know," Dean had said, his voice gentle but firm.

Cas didn't say anything. He knew this tone of voice. It was his "I love you, but if you interrupt, I'll rip your tongue out" voice… the same tone Nicky used when scolding him. He wondered how he had managed to fall for the one guy in the world who was exactly like his brother. Maybe it was true, what they said.

"I know," he replied. "But he still should have told me."

Dean smiled. "I didn't know your brother," he said. "But I do know you. You have these ridiculous abandonment issues…" Cas smacked him lightly and Dean pulled his fiancé's hand to his mouth and brushed lips over his knuckles. "You would've never let her go. You would've insisted on getting her back. Besides this is better than her growing up somewhere not even knowing you existed. At least she knows she has brothers who love her so much they gave her up for her own good."

Cas nodded sheepishly. Dean wasn't wrong, Nick wasn't wrong… He knew that, but it still hurt. He wondered if he could ever forgive Nick. Maybe he would… but it would take time.

"What am I going to do, Dean?" he quietly asked the sleeping figure.

"Put on your songs and dance while you make us breakfast," was the answer whispered in his ear.

Cas turned his head to look at his fiancé, who was still asleep, but his lips were curled in a smile. "You're awake," he stated.

Dean blinked his eyes open and grinned. "Of course I'm awake. I wake up the minute you start fidgeting. I just like to sleep next to you. I'm surprised it took you so long to figure it out."

Cas blushed. He had never thought that Dean enjoyed the sleeping part of "sleeping together" as much as he did. "Are you going to get up now?" he asked.

"No. I'm gonna pretend this never happened and you still don't know anything, and pretend to be asleep," Dean replied matter of factly. "And you better not move, Novak," he warned. Cas smiled and snuggled in closer, basking in his warmth.

Finally, he got bored of just lying around. "I'm getting up," he whispered. Dean grunted in protest, but his eyes remained closed. Cas moved away and kissed him, which was returned quite passionately by the "sleeping" man.

-x-x-x-

He showered quickly, then went into the kitchen. He had long mastered the art of moving around without making a lot of noise. It had been Godsent on the field, now he used it to work quietly around the house, without waking its sleeping inhabitants. Except him and Dean, everyone else was on a holiday and deserved to sleep in. Besides it was only 6.30, which was early, even by normal standards.

He got out his Ipod and put in the earphones. After yet another fight over their music preferences, Dean had marched him into the electronic shop and handed him a new Ipod with "Stop destroying my cassette tape collection. This is for you and your stupid girly songs." He usually listened to songs while making breakfast, sometimes danced to them if the tune was catchy enough. And Dean liked to watch. More often than not, it led to lots of sexy times.

He blushed thinking about it. For the next two weeks they had to tone it down or risk corrupting the younger minds. He changed the music to a soft undanceable tune. He listened for minute, then he threw caution to the winds changed it back. If Major couldn't control himself, it wasn't his fault.

He started dancing slowly to the beats, moving around the kitchen. He made a fresh pot of coffee, put bread slices in the toaster and opened a new tub of butter. Dean usually joked that Cas' toast were drowning in it… but he didn't care. He loved it like that. He decided to make pancakes for Claire. He had 4 different types of syrups. He didn't know what she liked anymore. He pulled out the ingredients he needed. He always made everything from scratch… none of that ready-made supermarket crap for my family… and set out mixing the batter.

He felt a gaze on his back. Major, he thought. He wriggled his hips just a little and continued dancing as he heated the pan, greased it and set about making pancakes. Any moment now, he would feel the warm hand grab his waist and pull him down in his lap. He ignored the urge to face his fiancé, keeping his back to him and moving his hips in rhythm to the music. He had flipped the half cooked batter out of the pan, when someone cleared their throat behind him. He jerked around and the pancake landed on the floor, face down, with a splat!

Cas stared in horror at the intruder. It wasn't his fiancé, it was his younger sister. He felt his face heat up and had the sudden urge to crawl into a hole and wait for the world to end. Instead he turned off the music and composed himself, calmly picking up the wasted pancake from the floor and throwing it away. He poured a fresh cup into the pan and turned to face his sister once again. "You're up early," he observed.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep last night," she replied, suddenly taking an interest in her feet. "What about you?"

"Major snores," he grinned. "I never sleep."

"Why do you call him Major?" she asked, leaning against the counter.

"He was in the army when we first met. Major Winchester, Special Forces," he replied. "I guess it just stuck. I'm only one who calls him that anymore. Do you like pancakes?"

She nodded, her eyes shining. "Mother used to make excellent pancakes. Anna liked hers with chocolate sauce, I prefer strawberry syrup."

"Uh… no strawberry, but I do have blueberry and maple, if that's acceptable," he said, flipping it over.

"No problem," she replied, suddenly coming to stand beside him. "What're you listening?"

"What?" he asked confused.

"The song you were dancing to," she explained.

"Oh." He turned the player on and Shakira started singing "Hips don't lie," he replied. "Do you want to…?" he asked, offering her an earpiece. She took it and stood beside him, both swaying in identical rhythm, as he continued flipping.

When Michael Buble started crooning "Sway", he turned off the stove and began twirling her around the kitchen. Their feet fell in perfect sync… as if their bodies knew exactly what the other wanted… their movements an extension of one another. By the time the song ended, both were holding onto each other for support, laughing breathlessly.

She pulled back and looked at him with tearful eyes. "Are you still angry at me, Jimmy?" she asked softly.

Cas shook his head. What could he say? He was angry. He was very angry… at the circumstances under which they separated, at Nicky for giving her up, at turn of events that forced a 16 year old kid to make that decision… He was angry at everything and everyone. But not her. Never her.

He smiled and raised his arms. She crushed their bodies together, her arms going around his body and squeezing for all she was worth. He circled his arms around her and held her for the first time in 22 years and finally said the words that had been on his lips ever since he had reached under the bed for his sister and came up empty handed, "Time for breakfast, baby Claire."

A/N 2: I wrote a deleted flashback scene from the night Dean serenades Cas, where Cas reminisces coming out to family. It's titled Angel with a Shotgun. Give it look-see.

Balthazar finally makes an appearance because the world is incomplete without Balthazar and his obsession with Celine Dion.