FIC TITLE: The Home for Wayward Children

Author- PTBvisiongrrl

Part- 7/? (I promise nothing else, which is why its marked complete, but ideas are a–brewing.)

Date- 8/20/16

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- 2,105

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 7

"Dean!" Sam's exasperated not-quite-yell woke his brother abruptly. It was not a danger-yell, but Dean's first instinct, even in the safety of the bunker, was to reach for the gun under his pillow.

Which was not there. Because there were kids about, little kids who liked to crawl into bed with him in the middle of the night.

Sitting up, sighing deeply (despite having gotten more than the required four hours, confirmed by a glance at the alarm clock, Dean was still pretty tired after some alone-time with Cas last night, finally), Dean yawned and shoved blankets out of his way. Grabbing a t-shirt to shrug on, jumping into jeans one awkward leg at a time, Dean stumbled into the hallway. "What the hell?"

Sam's voice echoed from the library, higher children's voices audible beneath his booming tenor. Making his way to the locus of issues, Dean had to stop and blink a few times himself before responding.

Jerry was sitting on top of a bookshelf, casually stacking small artifacts like blocks. Actually, they were very like blocks—they were small curse boxes, which Dean suddenly couldn't remember if they had any items in them, and that gave him a mild heart attack on top of the anxiety of sudden waking. "Dude!" he scolded Sam, striding over and snatching the little boy off the tall shelf and carefully extracting the boxes from his toddler grasp. "How did he get up there?"

Sam let out a huge sigh of relief. "I don't know. One minute he was at the table, next to me, and then he wasn't…"

"You have to keep your eyes on him, Gigantor," Dean shook his head, "AT ALL TIMES."

Cas had followed behind Dean from the bedroom. "That is physically impossible, Dean."

"I second that," Sam said, sitting back down at the table, arms crossed.

Dean closed his eyes and held Jerry close. "Jer, why did you climb up the book shelf?"

"The shiny boxes. Dey looked fun." Jerry smiled. "They stack good."

"They do stack good, Jer, but they aren't toys, dude, 'kay?" Dean went into problem solving mode. "Do you like to play with blocks?"

"Yea! But don't haf nun no more. Got lef." Jerry nodded solemnly.

"If we get you some more blocks, can you leave these blocks alone for me?" Dean asked Jerry very seriously. It seemed like another trip to Walmart was going to be scheduled for today, between laundry needs, clothing needs, and toy replacement.

"Yep, 'ean. I can." Jerry smiled widely at Dean, and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck.

"Walmart run for us all, after breakfast and chores," Dean announced, heading toward the kitchen. "Eggs, bacon, toast, home fries. Give me forty-five."

Sam's eyes lit up—Dean had been proven, with a real kitchen and groceries, to be a pretty good cook. "I'll let the rest of the kids know," Sam gathered his lap-top and gave Jerry a side-glance before exiting.

S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C…

Breakfast was chaotic but quicker than last night's dinner, probably due to the promise of a shopping trip. Rosie and Morgan volunteered to do dishes; Colton took care of getting Jerry presentable, and Cas got Petie. That left Sam and Dean time for a quiet cup of coffee at the War Room map table.

Sam studied Dean's face, Dean's eyes staring off into the distance and unaware, before speaking. "Thank you."

Dean refocused on Sam. "For what?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"I know I was only one, but you were barely older than me. Thank you for taking care of me all those years while I was a little shit and Dad was…Dad," Sam said lowly, emotion tinging his words.

"No choice, Sam. You're my little brother." Dean tried to play it off, but Sam wouldn't let him.

Sam put his coffee cup down. "There was always a choice. You just made it without thinking about the possibilities. What would you have done if you hadn't had to take care of me?"

"There wasn't a choice for me, then," Dean answered. "Just like there isn't a choice now, with these kids. I couldn't leave them alone like that. Are you sure you can deal with this? I mean, it's just been a few days and we have to reorganize our lives totally."

"I don't think this is a choice for me, either," Sam smiled. "I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing, but we're taking care of these kids together, okay?"

Dean downed the rest of his mug. "Together, then. See if you think the same way after a day of shopping with them."

Sam drained his own cup. "Fuck. I hate shopping."

S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C…

Before anyone could leave, planner Dean required lists. He knew how many outfits and clothing items needed to be bought, including sizes, for the youngest three as well as Cas. Dean insisted Cas needed more than the holy tax accountant get-up if he was being a dad—most especially sneakers for running around outside, and at least one pair of his own jeans.

Dean also had personal products figured out, cleaning supplies, and laundry items. The question was, would he have enough money to do it? There were always the credit cards, but he didn't really want to use them too often, too close to home. That was the way to get caught.

Which lead to another internal dilemma that he, Sam, and Cas would have to discuss later, once children were in bed—they were going to have to get jobs to support the kids' needs. Given the lack of credentials, the police records, the death certificates for themselves...that was going to require some planning, and at least one visit from Charlie.

Thrift store was the first stop, and it was a successful one. Several toys were acquired cheaply for Jerry and Petie, including a mixed box of worn Star Wars action figures and a small wooden table with chairs at kids' height, exactly what Dean had wanted. Good thing that they had taken multiple vehicles, Dead had noted to himself. Rosie found a purple bed spread and pillow shams, making her day. Clothing items were slowly sorted, tried on, and purchased for the kids. Coats had been located for the boys, as well as for Cas. And Dean had found several band shirts that fit Cas snuggly, showing off his musculature enough that Dean needed to calm himself.

Walmart was more chaotic. Dean sent the girls off to find socks, underwear, a set of blocks, and some bath toys for the boys, complete with budget. Colton and Sam took the list of laundry and personal items, Colton waving off Dean's budget with a "Remember pool?" Dean found himself and Cas back in the food section, entertaining a baby and a toddler. Well, Cas mostly entertained, because Dean was busy doing rapid calculations in his head. Dean realized that even with that old woman's generosity, this was going to be tight.

With two days of food left, Dean concentrated on grabbing things they would need that were on sale, even if it wasn't enough to make a complete meal yet. Lasagna noodles were buy one get one, so he bought several. Frozen vegetables (Dean cringed inwardly, even as he gathered large bags up) were also on sale, so Dean picked up the dreaded broccoli, corn, green beans, peas, carrots, and chopped spinach. English muffins had a coupon on the shelf, and would work for ad-hoc garlic bread. Shredded mozzarella was not on sale, but fairly cheap, and would be needed for the lasagna. Same with ricotta and ground meat. Keeping the running total in his head, Dean felt better that he now had two more meals bought.

Cas found pasta on sale, and Dean let Jerry pick out the type of pasta, astounded that there was anything BUT spaghetti. That's why at least one night would be a hodge-podge of penne, farfalle, and macaroni, but that night Dean would have Jerry help him make dinner. He was sure Jerry would get a kick out of many shaped mac-and-cheese.

Taking note that, if everyone had stuck to their budgets, Dean smiled that he should be able to swing past an art store and pick up supplies to work on decorating the rest of Jerry and Petie's rooms. He wanted to paint Rebel and Imperial symbols around the middle of the walls in Jerry's, and draw some character pictures to hang up. Art had always been something Dean was good at, but had never really had an opportunity to pursue beyond sketching monsters in his journal and drawing sigils. Dean also figured that this way Jerry and Petie could have what they wanted on their walls, since there was no way they were ever going to be able to afford to buy decorating stuff like that.

Dean considered that maybe the girls might like something like that in their rooms, once he had finished the boys' and had some examples to show them. And it had been a long time since he had taken a drawing class, so it might take him a bit to slide back into it. Maybe Cas might want to live model some for Dean…

And that was where Dean's thoughts went to places they shouldn't, in the middle of a crowded Walmart and with kids around. Shaking his head, he realized that Cas and the boys were already a couple aisles away, near the end of the food and approaching toys His heart quickened, hoping that Cas hadn't had to handle any requests for toys, because there really wasn't any more money right now for them…

Dean pushed the full cart around a corner, to find Cas chatting away with Mrs. Watson, the pay-it-forward woman from the other day. Dean plastered a smile on, still not entirely comfortable that this woman was on the up-and-up (he couldn't help but be biased, given his usual experiences) or that he actually needed help. Mrs. Watson met his smile with her own, which seemed genuine. "Hello! I didn't realize you were all here together. Mr. Castiel and I were just discussing how difficult adjusting to little ones can be, and how Jerry is so helpful in teaching Mr. Castiel how to do so."

Uneasy in his stomach, again, Dean nodded. "That's our Jerry."

"Do you have that lovely young lady here with you again, too?" Mrs. Watson asked, still smiling.

Dean really didn't understand how anyone could smile that much, much less want to. His face ached just half-heartedly smiling back. And he couldn't figure out why she was so interested in his family. "Yes, yes I do. She is off in clothes right now somewhere."

Mrs. Watson smiled. "Girls do like their clothes," she agreed.

Castiel's brow raised, and he corrected the woman. "Oh, no, Morgan is picking out clothes for the little ones."

"How responsible of her! Seems like you are already settling into roles," Mrs. Watson nodded. "Routine is good. Well, I do need to go, but it was wonderful to run into you again. Good luck!" And as fast as she had appeared, the woman was gone again before Dean could thank her for her generosity (requested anonymity be damned, he hated being in anyone's debt.)

Shaking his head at the old woman's speed, Dean said, "Time to go find the others, I think." Cas went along, Jerry's hand in his and Petie on his hip, looking very dad-like in his button down and slacks. Dean wondered what others thought of the picture the four of them made, crossing the store. Did they look like they belonged together, like a family? Or did something stick out as 'wrong,' attracting attention that they did not want?

He was still lost in thought when the girls were tracked down, and then Colton and Sam. That was one lesson that his dad had drilled into them, that mattered…but at the same time, left a bitter taste in his mouth. Living under the radar, as all hunters did, meant that you did not attract attention, most especially the kind of attention that would bring police or social workers to the house. The panic he himself felt at the possibility of someone trying to take Jerry or Petie away from him, even when they'd been his less than a week, suddenly made some of his father's way of doing things more understandable. Not acceptable, not excusable, but definitely more understandable.