Chapter 2

Numbered Days

The Winchester family stayed long past their usual departure time that day. It being a Friday, they knew neither of the Hurstwines would be home until after regular business hours, at which time Sam and Dean had decided to pay them a visit, both to inform them of the eradication of their poltergeist as well as Dean's inquiry concerning Alex. Having nothing pressing to do aside from eat and sleep until five o'clock in the evening, they did just that, interspersed with moments enjoying Alex's company. Although they had been up all night, both brothers were eager to spend as much time as possible with the girl, since it could very easily be the last time they saw her.

They did the usual activities, which were often the indulgence of Alex's curiosity. Dean played a lot more of the physical games that required hand-eye coordination, while Sam feed the more intellectual part of Alex's personality, reading whatever book she picked up and held out to him. But of course, everyone had to play hide and go seek (which was a fairly difficult task for the two substantially large men in the rather small motel room). When it was time to eat, they ate. When it was time to nap, they napped. All of them. For a couple hours.

At about four-thirty, they called the baby-sitter to watch Alex for the time Sam and Dean would be absent. When Lila showed up, they were off.

It was a long evening. And a short one. The Hurstwines, although rather surprised and unsure at first, soon came around to the idea of adopting Alex and agreed. It helped that Dean had pitched her as a "young girl they had been taking care of for a while and who needed a real home," excluding the fact that she was his daughter. Upon deciding to go through with the adoption, they agreed to bring Alex over the next morning. The two left, bringing dinner back to the motel with them.

The whole time, Dean never batted an eye.

The next morning came, still and quiet. The air held a weight as if a storm were brewing. Neither of the adults spoke much and even Alex got the sense of something odd going on, despite being only two years old. Her usual sleepy yet chipper morning chatter of half gibberish was minimal. It remained like this through a motel instant coffee and jarred pear sauce breakfast.

When they had all finished, Dean looked to his brother where he stood leaned against the short kitchenette counter, "Sam, you want to go put Alex's car seat in the Impala?"

"Sure," replied Sam. Putting down his empty paper cup, he picked up the car seat in the corner of the room and exited through the front door.

Dean was left alone with Alex on his lap, her wide, liquid green eyes inspecting the spoon she had just finished eating off of, turning its silvery form over and over in her tiny hands. He watched her for a moment, expressionless, with his arms wrapped loosely in front of the girl to guard her against falling. Then, he let his head sink down to kiss his daughter's forehead, eyes shut tight. He lingered there for a long moment, supporting the other side of her head with one large, carefully cupped hand. The girl didn't move nor pause in her inspection.

After a brief silence, he spoke, "What do you think, baby girl? Want to go on an adventure today?"

"Mmph," she replied absently.

"You're going to go and… and meet some new people – very nice people. And they've got a young boy you can play with…. It'll be fun," he paused, sighing. "And you're going to get to spend a lot of time with them, just you and them. But, you're not going to see me or… or Uncle Sam for a while. Okay?"

"'Kay," she didn't look up.

"Okay," echoed Dean. "Okay…. Well, that's the plan, then."

They sat quietly for a little while longer, Dean's breathing growing heavy as he waited, waited for the strength to stand. At last, he hoisted Alex off his lap as he came to his feet, then setting her on his hip. He went over to where her packed bag of things lay – her life in a canvas sack – which he slung over his other shoulder. Then he made for the door.

"All right, baby girl… let's go."

Outside, Sam had just finished securing the car seat into the back of the Impala. Upon seeing Dean approaching with Alex, he stood and moved toward them.

"I can throw that in here," he said, holding a hand out for Alex's bag, which Dean handed over.

"Can I get a hug before I put you in the car?" Dean asked Alex, who then proceeded to wrap her arms all the way around her father's neck. He held her close, trying to etch every detail of the moment into his memory.

Finally they disconnected and Dean carefully placed Alex into her seat, snapping the various straps into place. He gave her one last peck on the forehead and said softly, "Good-bye, Alex. Love you."

He shut the door.

"Okay," sighed Sam, beginning to climb into the passenger seat, "Here we go."

"Sam," Dean stopped him from sitting.

"Yeah?"

Purposefully removing his keys from his pocket, Dean tossed them over to Sam.

"You want me to drive?" his expression was quizzical.

Dean took a breath. "I want you to take her."

His mouth slightly agape and his brow furrowed in dismay, Sam moved away from the Impala, shutting the door. "What?"

"I can't do it, Sam," Dean stated. "I can't be there when she gets handed over to another family. I can't."

"You think I can?" retorted Sam. "I'm supposed to drive away with your child in the back seat, leave her with a bunch of people – give up my niece – then return back with an empty car and the news that this was in fact the last time we'll get to see her? And do it all alone?"

"Look, I know it's a lot to ask, but I wouldn't be askin' if I didn't have to," said Dean. "I need you to do this for me, Sammy."

Sam looked off into the distance and sighed. It was very easy to understand where his brother was coming from… and very difficult at the same time. Nevertheless, he could see that Dean was beginning to break from the inside out. Even though Sam felt as though his world was shifting under his feet, he knew he would be the one less affected in all of this. Having that comparison in mind made it a little easier to accept the request.

"Yeah, okay."

"Thanks," replied Dean.

"I guess I'll see you back here in a while, then," Sam said as he moved around to the driver's side, looking downcast.

"Yeah."

"'Kay," and he climbed in behind the wheel.

The motor rumbled into existence, then the gravel crackled in protest as the Impala reversed in an arc out of the parking space. With the slight click of the transmission being shifted into drive, the vehicle moved off, out of the motel lot, onto the highway and out of sight. Dean stood stoically, watching until there was nothing left to see – the last time he would glimpse his one and only daughter.

The measured chugging of the engine was accompanied by the gentle squeak of soon-to-be-replaced breaks and Sam's heavy sigh. He had just pulled up in front of the Hurstwine's house. It was a lovely place – not overbearing or extravagant, but well kept, nicely decorated and welcoming. The gardens were blooming, a mixture of wildflowers and aromatic herbs neatly maintained around the sides of the building. The lawn was mowed and green, and on the front porch was a cozy-looking rocking bench. About the windows were hung simple curtains in well-chosen colors and the gutters were cleaned. For all intents and purposes, it seemed a perfectly charming place. Yet, for Sam, it was cloaked in dark hues of troubling events to come, and to come soon.

"Mmph," Alex commented from the back seat.

Sam looked behind him at his niece, who was gazing out the window at what would come to be her new home. Her eyes were wide and bright, flicking from one facet of the scenery to another. He smiled.

"What do you think, Alex?" he asked, and she rolled her head over on her headrest to look at him. "Seem like a good place to live?"

She turned her attention back out the window to examine the place once more. Amused at her contemplating manner, but still aching, Sam reached over the backrest of the front bench seat to tuck one of his large, long fingers under the hand Alex wasn't using to hold her fluffy, plush dog. He gently stroked the top of her tiny hand with his thumb, the difference in size utterly shocking. Her skin was softer than water from a mountain river and her features were remarkably delicate. It was another harsh contrast between the two hands; one worn from years of battle with callouses and scars, the other new and still perfect.

Best to keep it that way, I guess, Sam thought.

Suddenly Alex gave a squeak, fidgeting in her seat, her eyes fixed on something outside the window.

"People!" she chirped.

Sam twisted around in his seat to look. Pam and Doug had just exited their house and were standing on the porch, watching the Impala intently. The time had come. Slowly, Sam turned back to Alex.

"That's Pam and Doug… I mean… Mom and Dad," Sam explained gently.

"Dad?" Alex asked, searching the area. "Where's Dad?"

Sam turned his eyes up to the ceiling, desperately trying to keep it together. Upon regaining composure, he looked back to his niece to reply, "He's outside. Not the guy you're thinking of, but… Dad's outside.

"Now… should we go meet the Hurstwines?"

"Yeah," she agreed, although she most likely didn't completely understand the question.

"Okay."

Sam climbed out of the car, went around and grabbed Alex's possessions, then proceeded to remove Alex herself from the vehicle. Once his niece was resting on his hip, he turned to face the couple on the front step of the house.

With a deep breath, he murmured, "Okay… here we go."

From his bed in the motel room, Dean heard Sam return, park and shut off the Impala's engine. Upon this inconspicuous signal, Dean groaned as he hoisted himself into a sitting position on the edge of the uneven bundle of springs and worn, compressed fluff. He wiped his face and sniffed, casting his gaze wearily across the room to the poorly painted wall opposite him.

He had attempted to busy himself about packing while his brother was away, but after having stowed all of his possessions in his bag, leaving nothing left to do, he had collapsed upon the bed. At least he was ready to leave the town he had come to loath.

The door handle clacked and the hinges creaked as Sam entered. His tread was heavy and the keys made a cacophonous jangle when he dropped them onto the table. He rounded the half wall and moved to his bed. With what felt like his thousandth sigh, he sat down opposite Dean, mirroring his brother, the springs of the mattress protesting under his weight. He looked over at his sibling, his distress soundless but evident.

"Everything go smoothly?" Dean finally broke the heavy silence.

"Yeah," replied Sam, his voice thick. "Yeah, no problem."

After a pause, Dean continued, "Did Alex seem okay with the whole deal?"

"Yeah. I mean," Sam hesitated as he thought, "she's only two; I'm not sure she really understood what was going on."

"Yeah… yeah, I suppose.

"So, that's it, then?"

The two exchanged a long look, both noting but not acknowledging the pain in each other's eyes.

"Yeah, that's it," answered Sam.

Dean nodded, looking down.

They sat in silence for a while, still and contemplative. Dean, weary, rested his head in his hands, covering his face. Sam stared at the empty space between him and the cheap bedside table, his brow furrowed. Neither moved for a long time.

Until Dean convulsed briefly.

Sam caught sight of this and watched his brother for a moment. He noticed Dean's breathing had become erratic and rattling. His muscles had tensed all over his body and he hunched over more than usual. Between his brother's fingers, Sam noticed the glimmer of tears.

In a low, soft voice, Sam murmured, "Dean…,"

"My baby girl, Sammy," Dean choked out, lifting his head out of his hands. "My baby girl is gone. I'm never going to see her again," despair was heavy in his voice.

Somewhat frightened by the sudden intensity of Dean's reaction, Sam was compelled to rise and move over to sit beside his grieving brother. He wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulders. Through the contact, Sam could feel his sibling shaking, and his sobs did not abate with the proffered comfort.

"Look… I know it's not really sufficient consolation, but," Sam began, "Pam and Doug… they could tell we'd grown attached to Alex. They still don't know the real reason, but they knew we cared about her and… they really appreciated what we'd done for her and promised me… that they would always make sure Alex knew about the two guys who took care of her for the first couple years of her life. She might not know exactly who we are, but she'll grow up knowing we loved her," Sam's own tears began to run down his cheeks. He added, as much to reassure himself as his brother, "She won't forget us."

A/N; I know this seems like a good wrapping up point, but not so, not so! There's much more to come!