Ambling Home by henri8l

Disclaimer: I own no rights to HP books or film franchise or any tv series only these invented plot changes and any added characters.

Ch6 Worth Their Salt

Once morning came Bobby checked Dean's room first. There was no sign of the boy other than his belongings that were sprawled over the bed covers. It looked like they had been undisturbed. So Dean hadn't slept here. Shaking his head, Bobby walked out of the empty bedroom. 'Why didn't I check last night?' He scolded himself for his laziness. Missouri had been so tired the night before that they both had just collapsed in bed without checking on the boys. He had fallen asleep mere minutes after she had, fully knowing something like this could happen. He stuck his head into Sam's room and Dean wasn't there either. He knew that he should give the boy the benefit of the doubt, but Dean often did just what he shouldn't. As Bobby shut Sam's door quietly, he saw Dean's lean muscled figure slip out of the bedroom beside Sam's. Naked as the day he was born. "Dean! What the hell is wrong with you? Where are your clothes?" Bobby demanded. The boy nearly jumped out of his skin.

Dean moved a hand over his privates and shrugged, "I was just heading to bed?" he offered. Bobby was about to give the boy a cuff about the head when he took a look at the kid's eyes. They were dilated and the colour was off. They weren't their usual hazel-green. There were now flecks of gold Bobby hadn't noticed before.

"What's going on with you? What's up with your eyes?"

"I dunno. Nothing? I feel really good. Really, good, Bobby," Dean said with a leer.

Bobby now had no doubt that the boy had gone against all warnings to leave that girl alone. "Jeez," he said, letting Dean walk passed.

Seventeen years later

Dean was staring out the window, his eyes fixed on the wing of the plane. His natural twitches and gestures ceased. His only movements were from his eyelids blinking every so often. Sam sat across from him, taking in the statue that his brother had become. After leaving the motel he hadn't said a word. Sam had only watched his face tensing further and further as the unbelievable news tumbled through his mind. He still couldn't believe it himself. Dean had a son. A teenager who had been parceled between one bad situation to another for most of his life. Sam was shaken and this kid wasn't even his, but he agreed that the knowledge of the boy instantly altered their priorities. It had been only the two of them for so long, the last of the Winchesters and what not. They had the responsibilities that came with it, and half the time wore it like a curse. If Sam didn't hear the long and short of the boy's life, he would've told his brother to leave him be. The kid might've had a chance at a normal life. Sam had started to tell his brother this before leaving the motel, but Dean had only handed him the letter. The letter told him that everyone else the kid had that was worth their salt was dead.

Turning away from Dean to look around at the other passengers, Sam took in a deep breath trying to ease the guilt he felt at his initial response. It didn't help, and his mind returned to a few hours before even that, when he discovered Dean with a letter in hand, trembling like a leaf.

Dean had been damn near mute, lumbering through their small motel room. Thoughts raced through his mind faster than the words could even enter his mouth. That had been about one in the morning. Sometime in the early morning hours, they parked the impala in the airport lot, leaving only with their duffels. Now it was eight and they were on a plane, duffels stowed, travelling across the Atlantic for the third time in their lives.

There was some turbulence, and a warning from the pilot for all on board to fasten their seat belts. Dean could see Sam refasten his out of the corner of his eye. He did the opposite. Dean unclasped his and made his way to the restroom, fighting the flight attendant all the way. "Move out of my way, lady, before I blow chunks at you," he snapped. The flight attendant put up her hands and moved out of his way. As he walked down the aisle, Dean's jaw clenched and his gut twisted with the thoughts that were running through his mind. How could she abandon his son? How could he have a son? Why hadn't he been told? How many times had Harry been carted off to some other unwilling family member? How scarred would his kid be? Dean's eyes began to burn with tears of frustration. He couldn't handle the sadness yet. It was turning into an all consuming rage and sense of keen urgency to remove his son from the situation that moved him this far, this quickly. Emotionally and geographically.

Dean was almost ready to leave the cramped airplane lavatory, when his reflection caught his attention. His eyes were wide and intense. He tried to blink away the burning sensation that he had been fighting since getting the news. His eyes still glowed or at least the flecks did. Those golden flecks that Bobby had noticed all of those years ago had never gone away. They had worried for a while that it had to do with Azazel, but that turned out to be false trail. Dean's stomach gave one more twinge, and he splashed some cool water on his face. There was a knock on the door. Dean made his exit, hearing Missouri's voice in his mind, 'Just breathe deep. Have faith, like I taught you.' 'Good ol' Missy,' he thought, his worries easing slightly already with each deep breath he took.

Missouri, he could always count on her. The person he had called before even telling Sam was Missy. She arranged all of their flight information, wired all the money they could possibly need, and all but ordered him to bring his son to her as soon as they stepped foot back in the States. Dean agreed, the sooner he could take his son home, the better.

A/N Thanks for the reviews. Glad you're enjoying it. H.