Home for Wayward Children

by PTBvisiongrrl

MILD Dean/Cas SLASH. At 39, Dean has taken more hits than a NFL quarterback, and his body has begun to feel it. His bones practically grate against each other when he gets up in the morning, and the rain makes him want to ball up into the fetal position until the Tylenol and Jack kick in. But if there isn't hunting, what is there? All there has ever been is hunting things...

4. Chapter 4

FIC TITLE: The Home for Wayward Children

Author- PTBvisiongrrl

Part- 4/? (I promise nothing else, which is why its marked complete, but ideas are a–brewing.)

Date- 7/16/16

Rating – PG-13/T (at least for now…I will clearly warn if it changes)

Pairings/Characters- Sam/Dean brother bond; Dean/Castiel romantic relationship

Word Count- 2832

Genre- Angst, Family, Romance

Warnings- Spoilers- AU for Season 11. I had already written this before the finale.

Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don't own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don't sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show!

Summary-

At 39, Dean has taken more hits than a NFL quarterback, and his body has begun to feel it. His bones practically grate against each other when he gets up in the morning, and the rain makes him want to ball up into the fetal position until the Tylenol and Jack kick in. But if there isn't hunting, what is there? All there has ever been is hunting things and helping people, the family business. Well, maybe it's time to help other people hunt things and expand the family.

Chapter 4

Once back to the Bunker, Dean sent Morgan to get ready for bed and switch out sitting duty with Sam. Her haughty, "Not Cas?" over her shoulder as she made her way out of the garage made Dean sigh as he reached for the milk and eggs first.

Loading up on the bags of cold items, Dean had already gotten to the kitchen and started rearranging the refrigerators to make room in a logical order for the supplies. That meant taking some things out and placing them in the trash, like the bag of mystery items from Taco Bell—which the town did not have, and they had not gotten on this last hunt, so there was no way it would still be good.

Sam came in to see Dean's face scrunched up after he opened a plastic soup container and sniffed it. "I didn't know wonton could go that bad," Sam laughed.

"I'm not sure what it started life as," Dean closed the container lid, "but it smells worse than fresh zombie." Dean tossed the closed container into the trash as well. "We need to clean and scrub this out before we load it up again. I didn't think of it before we left, or I would have had Colton do it."

Sam looked edgy at the mention of Colton. "What, Sam?" Dean immediately demanded.

"Ah, Colton decided he wanted to go make some money to help out, so he headed to the bar." Sam shrugged, his broad shoulders and brow ridge wrinkles somehow making him less looming.

"And you let the sixteen-year old go out to drink and hustle? Seriously, Sam? Did you even try to persuade him to stay home?" Dean's voice was slowly rising, and he had to stop himself with a deep breath.

"It's nothing you and I weren't doing at sixteen, Dean. Why should I have tried to stop him?" Sam asked.

"Because we are now responsible for him. He shouldn't have to go do that like we did. We sat home, we might not eat until Dad turned up again. These kids don't have to go through that." Dean started pulling out everything from the fridge and setting it on the counter. "Go get me a bucket of bleach water and some rags so I can wipe this out, and then you go find him."

"I am NOT going to try and get him to come home, Dean. You wouldn't have like Dad to do that to you at his age, either." Sam shook his head, and went to fill the bucket from under the sink up, adding extra bleach after looking at some of the items on the counter.

"I didn't say make him come home, Samsquatch," Dean sighed. "He's old enough to make stupid decisions on his own and learn from them. Just, go watch his back so he doesn't end up with his ass handed to him in the alley, okay?"

Grumbling, Sam agreed. "But after I help haul all those bags in. Is the trunk full, too?"

"Whole kit and caboodle is packed, Sammy. And that's just baby crap and a few days of food." Dean reached for the now full bucket and held a hand out, waiting, for Sam to dig the rags out, too. Once he had them, he started wiping out the fridge shelf by shelf, his back facing Sam.

Sam took the hint and started hauling, putting his long arms and thick muscles to use. It took him fifteen minutes to get everything into the kitchen, another fifteen to get everything out of bags and organized, and then ten more minutes of hauling baby crap to the kids' room and putting it away. By that time, Dean had dumped the water and opened all the fridge doors to dry it out faster.

Sam found Dean studying the inside of what had been, in his opinion, a fairly large fridge pre-five kids, an opinion he was quickly revising. "Do we have a shelf we can move in here to put cans and stuff on?" Dean asked Sam. Sam had explored more corners of the Bunker than Dean had, so he would know.

"Yeah, there's some shelving that would fit against that wall there. There's no way we can eat in here anymore, with all these bodies anyway. We'll just have to make some sort of pantry area." Sam considered the kitchen area. "We might need a second oven, too. Maybe a dishwasher?"

Dean snorted. "I certainly don't want to be doing that many dishes by hand. We'll have to sit and figure out what we need first, find a good deal. I've still got a hunk of change left, but there's shit we couldn't fit into the carts to get tonight. I gotta go back tomorrow or next day."

Sam eyed Dean a little suspiciously. "How do you have ANY money left after buying all this?"

"Some old lady paid it forward and took care of most of our bill. Nothing suspicious," Dean added, seeing Sam's face start to screw up. "She does it a lot, apparently, according to the cashier and store manager."

"I'm not sure how I feel about it, but right now, we can't afford to turn down that much help," Sam agreed.

Dean looked at the bags strewn across the table and counter tip. "Okay. I got this now, Sam. Go find Colton."

"Okay, okay," Sam nodded and lumbered off towards the garage, keys dangling from his fingers.

Once Sam shut the door to the garage firmly behind him, Dean settled down to concentrate on squeezing everything into where it needed to be. There would certainly need to be some adjustments, but the kitchen—and Bunker—had been designed for at least 10 people to live here and more to drop in to stay. It just lacked many modern conveniences, like a microwave, dishwasher, or garbage disposal. Those were easy to fix. The problem was that it had also been designed with the idea that there would be a housekeeper who shopped every day or two and prepared fresh meals each day.

Dean was not Donna Reed, and there was no way he was going to the story every other day and cooking every meal fresh from scratch. But what if there was something going on that the adults couldn't get home or the kids couldn't leave the Bunker for a few days? Kids had to eat. Dean was going to cook like a fiend for the next two weeks and get some extra meals made and frozen, just in case.

Dean was putting away the last of the dry food when Cas made his way to the kitchen. His usual trench coat and tie were missing; his sleeves were rolled up; and he had a HUGE pink stain on his left shoulder. "Dude," Dean chuckled. "What happened to you?"

"Petie," Cas answered.

"Did he puke on you?" Dean asked, wondering what Petie had eaten that was pink enough to stain a shirt like that.

Cas looked at Dean and dead-pan answered, "No."

"Bleed on you?" Dean asked, a little more disturbed at that thought but still trying to figure out the situation.

Cas sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "No. I would have alerted you upon your arrival home if any of the children had been injured on my watch, Dean."

"I'm not—" Dean was already exasperated, and more than ready to head to bed for the night. "What did Petie do to you?"

Cas pulled his hands out of his pocket. "He woke up with a fever and I tried to give him medicine for it. He did not like the medicine very much and spit it out at me, three times. I finally allowed Sam to medicate the child and he had no problem."

"Sam is a big guy compared to Petie," Dean tried to make Cas feel better about the incident. "I'm sure Petie behaved nicely in case Sam was a giant who might eat him."

"I do not think so," Cas answered. "I do not think Petie likes me very much."

Dean reached in the fridge and pulled out two beers, removing the caps before motioning to Cas to sit down at the table with him. "Petie didn't like how he was feelin', and he didn't like the taste of the medicine. He just got tired of fightin' by the time Sam got him. Petie likes you just fine."

"If you say so, Dean-" Cas looked puzzled and exasperated. "I do not understand humans, and most especially children."

"It'll get better, Cas," Dean patted Castiel's arm, taking a swig of beer. "Growing pains, that's all." The two sat in companionable silence, with brief questions from Cas about the trip to the store and all the supplies, until the sound of the garage door. At Cas's raised eyebrow, Dean explained, "Colton and Sam."

Nodding, Cas stayed seated and sipping his beer. Dean chugged his and rose to get three more out of the fridge. They were running low, if four people were going to be drinking them now. As Sam's broad shoulders cleared the doorway, Dean tossed a bottle to him without a word, and Sam caught it without a word as well.

Colton paused in the doorway before entering, his eyes unsure and anxious. He made his way to beside Dean and slapped down an impressive wad of bills on the counter. "I figured we could use some cash."

Dean picked up the money and flipped through. There wasn't a bill smaller than a ten, and at least two fifties. "Impressive," Dean commented, tone neutral. "I'll keep that in mind for the future. This," he tapped the cash bundle against Colton's chest pocket and slid it in, "is yours. You do not have to pay your way."

Colton's face immediately clouded over and his teeth gritted. "I want to help."

Dean nodded to Sam and Cas to get out. Years of working together with unspoken commands meant the other two men got it immediately. Sam cracked his neck. "I'm taking a shower and then bed."

Cas finished his beer and walked over to the sink to put his bottle in it to be rinsed. As he turned to leave, he put his hand on Dean's cheek. "I will wait up for you."

Dean put his own hand on top of Cas's and gave it a gentle bit of pressure. "You don't have to, Cas."

"I know," was Cas's only answer. With a goodnight to Colton, Cas headed towards the bedrooms.

Dean opened another beer and handed it to Colton. "Here. Let's sit and talk."

Colton took the beer, warily. "I can drink at 16, but I can't earn money to pay my way?"

Dean chuckled. "Sit first. Let me tell you a story."

"Oh, God," Colton cringed. "Can't we fast forward through the story with the lesson, and you just tell me what I did wrong and what I shoulda done instead."

Dean made a face. "Okay. You SHOULDA been a kid and gone to bed. Or stayed up and tried to sneak in some porn or something. But you should not have gone out alone to hustle, no matter how good your game is or how good your fake ID is."

Colton swallowed more beer. Dean noticed the slight grimace on his face, and determined that Colton was not a beer drinker. Dean watched him do this a couple more times, waiting to see if Colton would speak. When he did not, Dean sighed and started his tale. "First—I am not your father or your uncle. I know that. I don't want to be, either."

The look on Colton's face was an odd mix of worried little kid and pissed off teenager. Colton was still in the gawky, spindly stage of adolescence, not yet a man but not a little boy. As Dean knew first hand, it was a sucky place to be. "I'm here for you. You have a place to live, you have food to eat, you are safe. That much I can guarantee. Stay for a while, and see if it agrees with you. If you really hate it here, I'm not gonna make you stay, Colton."

The tightness to Colton's shoulders, the rigid way he had pulled himself up at Dean comments about his father and uncle, relaxed a little. Miniscule amount, really, but enough that Dean could detect it, so he took the opportunity to continue.

"My dad had Sam and I on the road with him hunting from the time I was 4 and Sammy wasn't even a year old. He left us alone a lot, and not always with enough money to get by. If things got tight, before I looked old enough to make a fake ID work, I did the five finger discount. Got picked up and sent away for it one time. Once I could get into a bar, I never had to steal again. I kept Sam in sneakers and school trips as well as feeding him by the time I was 17."

Dean met Colton's eyes directly. "Along with some thick wads of bills I got the shit kicked out of me pretty regularly until I hit a growth spurt. Still got my ass kicked on occasion, although those occasions were fewer and farther between."

Colton considered Dean's words, studying the label on his beer bottle and wiping patterns into the condensation. "I'm careful."

"I'm sure you are. You're a hunter," Dean agreed. "But just because you CAN hustle doesn't mean you should. Sam and I never had an opportunity to get out of this life, even when we tried to. You can. You don't have to," Dean quickly amended at the anger crossing Colton's face. "But I would like to make sure that you have the chance to do it, if you want to do it. Okay?"

Colton licked his lips. "Are you going to make me go to school, too?"

Dean made a huffed sound as he sucked back a few mouthfuls of his beer. "Not exactly."

"Shit," Colton muttered. "I hate school. They don't teach anything important, nothing useful."

"I hated school too, kid," Dean chuckled. "But my dad said I either had to go until I graduated, or get my GED. I got my GED at 16, as soon as I could legally leave school. I would be okay if you want to do that."

Colton started peeling the beer label. "I was doing cyber school for a while, until my dad died. I could try that again."

Dean nodded. "We can check that out, too, if you want. I figured I'd take the girls and register them for school next week, give them a little time to settle in here and adjust. Then we'll figure out your plans. You have a place to stay, here, for as long as you need it. Okay?"

Colton looked a little relieved. "Okay. But I still want to give you some money for food and stuff. I mean, five kids?"

"If I need it, I will ask you to. But I can hustle pool, too, and a few other things you can't do." Dean finished his beer. "So don't count on me having to ask."

Storm clouds gathered in Colton's eyes again, and Dean sighed. "Fine. Just this one time, and never again. If you really want to help out, you could take the kids clothes shopping. But that's it. No room and board, no rent, nothing like that. Got it?"

"So, no hunting, no sharking," Colton tried testing his limits. "Can I still train?"

"Yes, we will ALL train," Dean nodded. "Just because the kids are too little to hunt doesn't mean some big bad nasty won't try to get them anyway. With a name like Winchester, I have pissed off plenty of monsters who would like a piece of me, and I don't want any collateral damage."

Colton turned a little pink as he rose and made his way to the sink. "You guys are legends, you know that, right?"

Dean laughed hard enough to almost exhale his mouthful of beer through his nose. "I'll keep that in mind, kid."

Colton downed the rest of his beer with determination on his face. "You didn't have to help me, to help the others. You could have walked away. As a hunter, I would have. So thank you, for that."

As usual, Dean shrugged off any indication that what he did was unusual or special. "As a big brother, there was no way I was walking away from you guys. And I was a big brother long before a hunter."

Colton shook his head and made his way towards bed. "Goodnight, Dean."

Dean answered with a raised beer bottle, quickly finished, and made his way towards his own bed. And Cas.

That thought put a bit of speed in Dean's step.