Born Again Winchesters (Part 2)
Nov. 29th, 2014 07:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
majestic_duxka/n I didn't even realise I hadn't posted part 2!
--
part 1 | part 3
--
Sam watched Dean’s retreating back. He could have stopped him. But now wasn’t the time. He wasn’t happy with Dean’s choices (and wasn’t that an understatement), but he also wasn’t yet in a position to be enforcing the rules. But it was with a sense of relief Sam noted that that would be changing soon.
Figuring he may as well take advantage of Dean being out for the evening, Sam pulled out his cell, ringing a now well-known number.
“Missouri? Sam. Dean's out for the night." Sam rolled his eyes, listening to the voice on the other end.
"Yeah, yeah. I know you know. I was just doing the polite thing! I just...” Sam shrugged uncomfortably. He knew he was doing the right thing. But of course he had reservations. He was making some big changes to their lives. Life changing decisions.
“I just need to know. That this is the right thing for Dean. Huh? Well. He’s gone out tonight on a bender. After a week of, god, I don’t even know how to explain it. He’s worse, more reckless even, than when he was going to Hell. Yeah. Yeah. No! I do. I do think it is the right thing for him. No. No actually. For us. I think this is the right thing for us. This is something I can do. I got raised by the best. Now it’s his turn. I just… he’s not… Sorry? Yeah. No, I am listening properly. Yeah?”
Missouri's words caused Sam's stomach to drop. Really? This was Dean’s last chance to make it out alive? “Ok. Well, let’s just say you’ve reassured me I’m doing the right thing. I know. Yes. Yeah, bumping up the schedule, but the house is all organised, and I told Bobby we were getting out of the business. And Cas. I told him too. I had to! It’s not like I could have said nothing. You know if we just disappeared they would have caused trouble finding us.” Sam paused, listening as Missouri gave him ample advice. “Yeah. That makes sense. I do have one last question. Is it… Do you think it’s too young?”
That was the burning question. Sam had already made his decision. But he really wanted some approval. Happily, Missouri gave it.
“That boy never had a childhood, Sam. He’s been caring for you since he was a baby himself.” Sam went to interrupt but she spoke right over him. “He doesn’t regret a minute of it! So don’t you go minimizing that. He loves you, Sam. More than he knows how to say. But he’s damaged – he’s been hurt and used again and again and again. By strangers and people he loves. That sweet boy doesn't know how to trust. I don’t know exactly what happened recently, Sam, but you’re right – he is spiraling out of control, and he doesn’t feel like he has anyone there to catch him.”
There was silence on both ends of the line.
"You need to be there, Sam. You need to be that person."
Even though Sam had made his decision, he still had to question it. “But is there another way? I mean, Dean’s going to hate it.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Are you going to hate it, Sam?”
Ah, and wasn't that a confronting question. If Sam was honest – and he couldn’t be anything but, not with Missouri on the other end of the phone - Sam wasn’t going to hate. In fact, he liked the idea. And he kinda felt bad about that.
And more than liking the idea? He wanted this. He desperately wanted this.
He could hear Missouri smile through the phone. “It’s all going to be ok, Sam. You know you have all our support. You can call me any time of day or night. It’s not easy having a new baby. Talk to you soon, Daddy.”
--
The last couple of weeks had been a heady combination of alcohol and sex. Dean has always been attractive enough to find a willing participant everywhere he went.
And he liked sex. It was a great way to be in his body, get out of his head for a bit. And even it wasn’t just clean, wholesome fun, Dean was clear that it was nothing more than a roll in the hay. Honest and upfront, nobody got hurt.
Last night appeared to have been different.
Dean was pretty sure he’d gotten into a fight. The details were sketchy, but he seemed to have a few extra bruises, and his stomach felt terrible. Glancing across at Sam, he noted the hard line to his mouth, which meant he was very carefully not saying anything.
“This bed isn’t very comfortable, Sammy.”
Dean didn’t think it was possible, but Sam’s mouth tightened even further. Grumbling to himself, Dean reached across to find a pillow, but felt smooth leather instead.
Oh, that was interesting. They were in the car.
“Thought you said we’d stay at that motel a few days?”
Sam didn’t take his eyes off the road, not even to roll his eyes or glare at Dean. He must want to. Sam looked incredibly pissed off. Dean chuckled to himself. Since when had Sam become Mr fucking Responsible?
“Yeah, well plans change. I decided now was the best the time.”
There was silence. Dean reached to put the radio on (somehow his tapes had been moved. ‘Confiscated’ seemed like the better word, but that made no sense. It was his car.) Sam reached out, and tapped the back of his hand.
“No, Dean.”
Dean didn’t bother to hide his eye roll. Sam was being weird. Weirder than usual, at any rate. Why would he want quiet anyway? Dean, even with his pounding headache, wanted the music, needing his brain taken up with sounds so he couldn't fill it with thoughts.
He reached for the radio again.
“I said 'no', Dean.” Once again, Sam tapped the back of his hand.
Outraged eyes seemed to bore into him. Sam very carefully kept his face neutral (thank god for all the practice he’d recently had!).
“What’s the rule in the car?”
“Driver chooses music, shotgun shuts his cake hole,” Dean muttered the words. "But part fucking one of that, is the driver has to choose some goddamn music."
Sam frowned. They’d have to work Dean's language. “Yes. Driver chooses the music. And we’ll have some music soon,” Sam had started collecting appropriate music weeks ago, even before he’d fully committed to his plan. He'd wanted to be prepared, just in case. “But right now we need to talk.”
Dean’s stomach dropped. Sam was leaving him. He’d been so much trouble, Sam was going. Of course, that had been the point of the whole exercise, but now it was finally here. Dean didn’t even notice he’d started hyperventilating. Sam, however, noticed the moment it started.
“Dean! Dean, listen to me. It’s ok, Dean. It’s ok, baby. Don’t know what’s going through your head, but it’s all going to be ok.”
He knew Dean couldn’t hear right now (was counting on it really), but he worked at keeping his voice calm and soothing. He could make a pretty good guess at what Dean was thinking. He hated seeing Dean like this – so unsure of his place in Sam’s life. Or at least certain he had no place. It was distressing, thinking that his actions caused this, but things were changing. Dean was going to learn how important he was.
Once he’d found a safe place and pulled over, Sam unbuckled Dean’s seat belt, pulling him straight into his lap. “Breathe with me, Dean. Match my breath. In. Out. In. Out. That’s a good boy. It’s all ok, Dean. It’s all going to be fine. Keep on breathing Dean. Just keep on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. That’s my good boy.”
It was both too long and not long enough until Dean became calm. Of course the minute he realized he was pretty much being held in Sam’s lap, he wrenched himself back to the other side of the car, body slamming into the door. Sam let him, waiting for the gasp of pain as he hit the handle with his bruised ribs. A slight frown marred his face. Dean wasn’t careful enough with himself.
Although he wanted to fill the space with explanations and little words of love and support, Sam waited Dean out. There was lots he could and should say, but anything important had to come from Dean.
Five minutes later, Sam marveled that he could have forgotten just how stubborn his brother could be. And how incredibly long five minutes was when you were just waiting. Interestingly enough, that spurred him on to see how ten felt.
And as he had suspected, it was twice as boring. Being careful to telegraph his movements, Sam returned the key to the ignition.
“I’m going to keep driving, Dean. We’re not going to have any music on, because you need to think about what you want to say.”
Dean opened his mouth to argue. But Sam shushed him – actually shushed him!
“Shhhh, Dean. You look like you’re just going to argue, and I think we’ve argued more than enough. I am happy to talk to you about whatever you want to talk about, but I don’t want to fight about it. Ok?”
Sam did look at him then, but Dean’s eyes flickered away. Sam hid his smile. Poor baby was confused. Well, Sam could understand that. It was going to be a confusing couple of weeks for both of them.
--
While Dean sulked against the car door, Sam ran through his list of preparations. He’d bought the house months ago. Whether he went through with his plan or not, he’d wanted a home base. Somewhere he, or Dean, could always return to. Somewhere that was theirs in a way nothing had ever been before. Of course Sam had been picky. It had to be near town, with easy access to supplies, and internet, but far enough way that nothing would disturb them. A big fenced in backyard, and enough rooms inside for all the important rooms: kitchen, lounge room, study, bedroom and nursery. And a safe room.
He’d actually been looking for a hunt when he found the perfect place. Wood Springs, Colorado. A beautiful part of the world. Just right for raising a young family. He’d rung Bobby to ask about the town. Bobby of course wanted to know why and Bobby was highly trained in interrogation techniques. It hadn’t been an easy conversation, but it worked out for the best. Bobby’s friends (and Sam had been so relieved to learn it was Garth and Ash, rather than, say, Gordon and Rufus) had come in to help with the renovations and decorating. Ash had even live streamed some of the renovations, so Sam knew exactly how it was progressing.
And Sam? Sam couldn’t be more thrilled. It was going to be perfect for them. The house was perfect. The rest was also going to be perfect. Hard… but perfect.
Speaking of the hard part, Sam flicked his eyes to Dean, who was still sulking in the corner. Just like the little baby he was. Sam felt a content smile cross his lips. Dean, of course, noticed it.
“Why do you look so happy?”
Sam took his time answering. He'd told Dean he was happy to talk about anything, so he needed to stick to that. Sam was going to be a man of his word. Dean would be able to rely on his daddy this time round. He didn’t think Dean was ready to hear about that, about their new home and new life. But he had to start somewhere…
“I bought a house.”
And that pretty much got the reaction he expected.
--
For a moment Dean didn’t know what to say. Happily, that problem didn’t last long.
“I knew! I fucking knew it! When I saw all those real estate websites…”
“What websites,” Sam interrupted. Dean looked away slightly embarrassed, and Sam huffed a sigh. Oh well, it didn’t matter. Dean wouldn’t be having any unsupervised time on the computer for a while. In fact, Dean wouldn’t be having any computer time for a while. It was bad for a baby's development.
“I knew you were up to something, so I looked. God. So this it's like this, huh?" Dean looked out the window. Here would be as good a place as any. "Where're you dropping me off,” Dean asked bleakly.
Sam sent him an exasperated but affectionate look. So predictable. “I’m not dropping you anywhere, Dean. The house is for us - the both of us. I’ve always wanted a stable home, you know that. I almost had it, and my years at Stanford were a taste of what it could be like. But you’ve never had a home like that. At least, not that you can remember," he added apologetically. "So I decided that it was time you did. That we did. And we’re going to do it right this time,” Sam spoke earnestly. “I know there’s going to be some adjustment, and I know that giving up hunting is going to be hard...”
“Woahwoahwoahwoahwoah. Hold up there, Sammy. What do you mean giving up hunting? I’m not giving up hunting! Hunting’s what I do It’s what I am!”
“Not anymore.” Sam replied firmly. Then, seeing Dean’s expression added, “For now at least, just take a short break. When was the last time you had a holiday?”
Sam already knew the answer. Sam knew pretty much everything there was to know about Dean. At the very least there wasn't anyone who knew him better. He'd still researched those four years they had apart. He also spoke to Castiel about Dean’s time in Hell and Purgatory – although of course he knew those weren’t holidays. But he needed to know what had happened to Dean. Castiel hadn’t wanted to tell him, but had eventually been swayed.
Sam still wasn’t sure if he was glad he won that argument or not.
It certainly explained a lot about Dean...
“Yes,” Sam repeated firmly. “A holiday. You’re gonna love the house, Dean! It has a big backyard. Maybe we could have a dog, or garden. Would you like to grow flowers? Vegetables?”
Dean snorted in disgust, but Sam kept talking. “We’ll be out of town, but close enough to easily get anything we need. And our nearest neighbours are about a mile away, but the yard still has a wrought iron fence around it, and the backyard has a huge fence, so you can’t see into at all.”
Despite his best efforts, Sam couldn’t help the satisfaction that entered his voice. This place was safe. Safe from the supernatural and from human prying eyes.
“Just give it a chance, Dean. I think you’ll like it.”
Dean just ignored him. He ignored Sam so thoroughly, he eventually slipped into a restless sleep. Sam just kept driving. Eventually he’d have to stop for fuel, but he didn’t feel comfortable getting out and leaving the baby in the car.
Fuck! He couldn’t help laughing at himself. He’d already started thinking Dean as his baby.
A quick glance confirmed that Dean was still asleep. Sam let the elation he’d been feeling light up his face. It was going to happen, and it was going to work. He knew Dean would have trouble settling in, and that was to be expected. This wouldn’t be happening if he’d had even an ounce of self-preservation. But he didn’t. Reckless behaviour, lack of control, self-worth issues... the list went on and on.
Well, Dean Winchester was not a lost cause. Adult Dean had no trust. Adult Dean believed he was unworthy of love. Adult Dean was on a path of self-destruction.
Well that was fine, because once they were in that house; there would be no more adult Dean: Just Sam and his baby, Deanie.
Sam looked across at his sleeping brother. He was still tense, eyes flickering as the car jolted. No wonder the poor baby was tired. Luckily he had a very determined daddy to help.
--
part 1 | part 3
--
part 1 | part 3
--
Sam watched Dean’s retreating back. He could have stopped him. But now wasn’t the time. He wasn’t happy with Dean’s choices (and wasn’t that an understatement), but he also wasn’t yet in a position to be enforcing the rules. But it was with a sense of relief Sam noted that that would be changing soon.
Figuring he may as well take advantage of Dean being out for the evening, Sam pulled out his cell, ringing a now well-known number.
“Missouri? Sam. Dean's out for the night." Sam rolled his eyes, listening to the voice on the other end.
"Yeah, yeah. I know you know. I was just doing the polite thing! I just...” Sam shrugged uncomfortably. He knew he was doing the right thing. But of course he had reservations. He was making some big changes to their lives. Life changing decisions.
“I just need to know. That this is the right thing for Dean. Huh? Well. He’s gone out tonight on a bender. After a week of, god, I don’t even know how to explain it. He’s worse, more reckless even, than when he was going to Hell. Yeah. Yeah. No! I do. I do think it is the right thing for him. No. No actually. For us. I think this is the right thing for us. This is something I can do. I got raised by the best. Now it’s his turn. I just… he’s not… Sorry? Yeah. No, I am listening properly. Yeah?”
Missouri's words caused Sam's stomach to drop. Really? This was Dean’s last chance to make it out alive? “Ok. Well, let’s just say you’ve reassured me I’m doing the right thing. I know. Yes. Yeah, bumping up the schedule, but the house is all organised, and I told Bobby we were getting out of the business. And Cas. I told him too. I had to! It’s not like I could have said nothing. You know if we just disappeared they would have caused trouble finding us.” Sam paused, listening as Missouri gave him ample advice. “Yeah. That makes sense. I do have one last question. Is it… Do you think it’s too young?”
That was the burning question. Sam had already made his decision. But he really wanted some approval. Happily, Missouri gave it.
“That boy never had a childhood, Sam. He’s been caring for you since he was a baby himself.” Sam went to interrupt but she spoke right over him. “He doesn’t regret a minute of it! So don’t you go minimizing that. He loves you, Sam. More than he knows how to say. But he’s damaged – he’s been hurt and used again and again and again. By strangers and people he loves. That sweet boy doesn't know how to trust. I don’t know exactly what happened recently, Sam, but you’re right – he is spiraling out of control, and he doesn’t feel like he has anyone there to catch him.”
There was silence on both ends of the line.
"You need to be there, Sam. You need to be that person."
Even though Sam had made his decision, he still had to question it. “But is there another way? I mean, Dean’s going to hate it.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Are you going to hate it, Sam?”
Ah, and wasn't that a confronting question. If Sam was honest – and he couldn’t be anything but, not with Missouri on the other end of the phone - Sam wasn’t going to hate. In fact, he liked the idea. And he kinda felt bad about that.
And more than liking the idea? He wanted this. He desperately wanted this.
Dean was his everything. Dean had given him everything. And now he wanted to give back. His brother had missed out on a childhood: on love, on affection, fuck, even on being raised. And Sam wanted – no, needed - to give that to him.
He could hear Missouri smile through the phone. “It’s all going to be ok, Sam. You know you have all our support. You can call me any time of day or night. It’s not easy having a new baby. Talk to you soon, Daddy.”
--
The last couple of weeks had been a heady combination of alcohol and sex. Dean has always been attractive enough to find a willing participant everywhere he went.
And he liked sex. It was a great way to be in his body, get out of his head for a bit. And even it wasn’t just clean, wholesome fun, Dean was clear that it was nothing more than a roll in the hay. Honest and upfront, nobody got hurt.
Last night appeared to have been different.
Dean was pretty sure he’d gotten into a fight. The details were sketchy, but he seemed to have a few extra bruises, and his stomach felt terrible. Glancing across at Sam, he noted the hard line to his mouth, which meant he was very carefully not saying anything.
“This bed isn’t very comfortable, Sammy.”
Dean didn’t think it was possible, but Sam’s mouth tightened even further. Grumbling to himself, Dean reached across to find a pillow, but felt smooth leather instead.
Oh, that was interesting. They were in the car.
“Thought you said we’d stay at that motel a few days?”
Sam didn’t take his eyes off the road, not even to roll his eyes or glare at Dean. He must want to. Sam looked incredibly pissed off. Dean chuckled to himself. Since when had Sam become Mr fucking Responsible?
“Yeah, well plans change. I decided now was the best the time.”
There was silence. Dean reached to put the radio on (somehow his tapes had been moved. ‘Confiscated’ seemed like the better word, but that made no sense. It was his car.) Sam reached out, and tapped the back of his hand.
“No, Dean.”
Dean didn’t bother to hide his eye roll. Sam was being weird. Weirder than usual, at any rate. Why would he want quiet anyway? Dean, even with his pounding headache, wanted the music, needing his brain taken up with sounds so he couldn't fill it with thoughts.
He reached for the radio again.
“I said 'no', Dean.” Once again, Sam tapped the back of his hand.
Outraged eyes seemed to bore into him. Sam very carefully kept his face neutral (thank god for all the practice he’d recently had!).
“What’s the rule in the car?”
“Driver chooses music, shotgun shuts his cake hole,” Dean muttered the words. "But part fucking one of that, is the driver has to choose some goddamn music."
Sam frowned. They’d have to work Dean's language. “Yes. Driver chooses the music. And we’ll have some music soon,” Sam had started collecting appropriate music weeks ago, even before he’d fully committed to his plan. He'd wanted to be prepared, just in case. “But right now we need to talk.”
Dean’s stomach dropped. Sam was leaving him. He’d been so much trouble, Sam was going. Of course, that had been the point of the whole exercise, but now it was finally here. Dean didn’t even notice he’d started hyperventilating. Sam, however, noticed the moment it started.
“Dean! Dean, listen to me. It’s ok, Dean. It’s ok, baby. Don’t know what’s going through your head, but it’s all going to be ok.”
He knew Dean couldn’t hear right now (was counting on it really), but he worked at keeping his voice calm and soothing. He could make a pretty good guess at what Dean was thinking. He hated seeing Dean like this – so unsure of his place in Sam’s life. Or at least certain he had no place. It was distressing, thinking that his actions caused this, but things were changing. Dean was going to learn how important he was.
Once he’d found a safe place and pulled over, Sam unbuckled Dean’s seat belt, pulling him straight into his lap. “Breathe with me, Dean. Match my breath. In. Out. In. Out. That’s a good boy. It’s all ok, Dean. It’s all going to be fine. Keep on breathing Dean. Just keep on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. That’s my good boy.”
It was both too long and not long enough until Dean became calm. Of course the minute he realized he was pretty much being held in Sam’s lap, he wrenched himself back to the other side of the car, body slamming into the door. Sam let him, waiting for the gasp of pain as he hit the handle with his bruised ribs. A slight frown marred his face. Dean wasn’t careful enough with himself.
Although he wanted to fill the space with explanations and little words of love and support, Sam waited Dean out. There was lots he could and should say, but anything important had to come from Dean.
Five minutes later, Sam marveled that he could have forgotten just how stubborn his brother could be. And how incredibly long five minutes was when you were just waiting. Interestingly enough, that spurred him on to see how ten felt.
And as he had suspected, it was twice as boring. Being careful to telegraph his movements, Sam returned the key to the ignition.
“I’m going to keep driving, Dean. We’re not going to have any music on, because you need to think about what you want to say.”
Dean opened his mouth to argue. But Sam shushed him – actually shushed him!
“Shhhh, Dean. You look like you’re just going to argue, and I think we’ve argued more than enough. I am happy to talk to you about whatever you want to talk about, but I don’t want to fight about it. Ok?”
Sam did look at him then, but Dean’s eyes flickered away. Sam hid his smile. Poor baby was confused. Well, Sam could understand that. It was going to be a confusing couple of weeks for both of them.
--
While Dean sulked against the car door, Sam ran through his list of preparations. He’d bought the house months ago. Whether he went through with his plan or not, he’d wanted a home base. Somewhere he, or Dean, could always return to. Somewhere that was theirs in a way nothing had ever been before. Of course Sam had been picky. It had to be near town, with easy access to supplies, and internet, but far enough way that nothing would disturb them. A big fenced in backyard, and enough rooms inside for all the important rooms: kitchen, lounge room, study, bedroom and nursery. And a safe room.
He’d actually been looking for a hunt when he found the perfect place. Wood Springs, Colorado. A beautiful part of the world. Just right for raising a young family. He’d rung Bobby to ask about the town. Bobby of course wanted to know why and Bobby was highly trained in interrogation techniques. It hadn’t been an easy conversation, but it worked out for the best. Bobby’s friends (and Sam had been so relieved to learn it was Garth and Ash, rather than, say, Gordon and Rufus) had come in to help with the renovations and decorating. Ash had even live streamed some of the renovations, so Sam knew exactly how it was progressing.
And Sam? Sam couldn’t be more thrilled. It was going to be perfect for them. The house was perfect. The rest was also going to be perfect. Hard… but perfect.
Speaking of the hard part, Sam flicked his eyes to Dean, who was still sulking in the corner. Just like the little baby he was. Sam felt a content smile cross his lips. Dean, of course, noticed it.
“Why do you look so happy?”
Sam took his time answering. He'd told Dean he was happy to talk about anything, so he needed to stick to that. Sam was going to be a man of his word. Dean would be able to rely on his daddy this time round. He didn’t think Dean was ready to hear about that, about their new home and new life. But he had to start somewhere…
“I bought a house.”
And that pretty much got the reaction he expected.
--
For a moment Dean didn’t know what to say. Happily, that problem didn’t last long.
“I knew! I fucking knew it! When I saw all those real estate websites…”
“What websites,” Sam interrupted. Dean looked away slightly embarrassed, and Sam huffed a sigh. Oh well, it didn’t matter. Dean wouldn’t be having any unsupervised time on the computer for a while. In fact, Dean wouldn’t be having any computer time for a while. It was bad for a baby's development.
“I knew you were up to something, so I looked. God. So this it's like this, huh?" Dean looked out the window. Here would be as good a place as any. "Where're you dropping me off,” Dean asked bleakly.
Sam sent him an exasperated but affectionate look. So predictable. “I’m not dropping you anywhere, Dean. The house is for us - the both of us. I’ve always wanted a stable home, you know that. I almost had it, and my years at Stanford were a taste of what it could be like. But you’ve never had a home like that. At least, not that you can remember," he added apologetically. "So I decided that it was time you did. That we did. And we’re going to do it right this time,” Sam spoke earnestly. “I know there’s going to be some adjustment, and I know that giving up hunting is going to be hard...”
“Woahwoahwoahwoahwoah. Hold up there, Sammy. What do you mean giving up hunting? I’m not giving up hunting! Hunting’s what I do It’s what I am!”
“Not anymore.” Sam replied firmly. Then, seeing Dean’s expression added, “For now at least, just take a short break. When was the last time you had a holiday?”
Sam already knew the answer. Sam knew pretty much everything there was to know about Dean. At the very least there wasn't anyone who knew him better. He'd still researched those four years they had apart. He also spoke to Castiel about Dean’s time in Hell and Purgatory – although of course he knew those weren’t holidays. But he needed to know what had happened to Dean. Castiel hadn’t wanted to tell him, but had eventually been swayed.
Sam still wasn’t sure if he was glad he won that argument or not.
It certainly explained a lot about Dean...
“Yes,” Sam repeated firmly. “A holiday. You’re gonna love the house, Dean! It has a big backyard. Maybe we could have a dog, or garden. Would you like to grow flowers? Vegetables?”
Dean snorted in disgust, but Sam kept talking. “We’ll be out of town, but close enough to easily get anything we need. And our nearest neighbours are about a mile away, but the yard still has a wrought iron fence around it, and the backyard has a huge fence, so you can’t see into at all.”
Despite his best efforts, Sam couldn’t help the satisfaction that entered his voice. This place was safe. Safe from the supernatural and from human prying eyes.
“Just give it a chance, Dean. I think you’ll like it.”
Dean just ignored him. He ignored Sam so thoroughly, he eventually slipped into a restless sleep. Sam just kept driving. Eventually he’d have to stop for fuel, but he didn’t feel comfortable getting out and leaving the baby in the car.
Fuck! He couldn’t help laughing at himself. He’d already started thinking Dean as his baby.
A quick glance confirmed that Dean was still asleep. Sam let the elation he’d been feeling light up his face. It was going to happen, and it was going to work. He knew Dean would have trouble settling in, and that was to be expected. This wouldn’t be happening if he’d had even an ounce of self-preservation. But he didn’t. Reckless behaviour, lack of control, self-worth issues... the list went on and on.
Well, Dean Winchester was not a lost cause. Adult Dean had no trust. Adult Dean believed he was unworthy of love. Adult Dean was on a path of self-destruction.
Well that was fine, because once they were in that house; there would be no more adult Dean: Just Sam and his baby, Deanie.
Sam looked across at his sleeping brother. He was still tense, eyes flickering as the car jolted. No wonder the poor baby was tired. Luckily he had a very determined daddy to help.
--
part 1 | part 3
Tags:
- character: ash,
- character: bobby singer,
- character: castiel,
- character: dean winchester,
- character: garth,
- character: missouri,
- character: sam winchester,
- fandom: supernatural,
- kink: baby dean,
- kink: crying dean,
- kink: cuddling,
- kink: daddy sam,
- kink: dubcon,
- kink: hurt/comfort,
- kink: manhandling,
- kink: no sex,
- kink: non consensual relationship,
- kink: non sexual orgasm denial,
- kink: nonsexual infantilism,
- pairing: sam and dean,
- part 2,
- rating: m,
- status: incomplete,
- title: born again winchester
