Quelling The Tide, 3/?
Title: Quelling The Tide
Author: Wynna Pendragon
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Set in Season 5
Warnings: Spoilers for everything up to Season 5, gender swap, implied non-graphic het sex, and pregnancy.
Word Count:7,590
Summary:“Is it just me,” She addressed to the whole room, “Or am I getting fat as hell?”
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters within, I just wanna toy with them for a while. ^^
Author's Notes: Thank you to kitty_alex for betaing. This was written for that very special person out there, you know who you are ^^. Previous Chapters can be found here.
Chapter Three
Ben gasped in terror, the man's eyes were filled with nothing but malice and fanatical glee, and the young man wondered what he wanted with him. His hand tightened on his skinny shoulder, fingertips digging cruelly into the soft tissue, and Ben flinched at the white hot pain he caused. He panted, looking around for anything to hit him with, anything that could possibly help him.
"Do not fear Ben, I won't hurt you. See, I can't hurt you, you are too precious to us to harm in any way. Know why?"
Ben's eyes darted from side to side, great, he was dealing with one of those people. His eyes caught the flash of movement just behind Zachariah, revealing the slight form of a guy in a khaki trench coat and dark suit. He gulped, decided to stall for time, "No, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"
The older man's eyes flashed, "You are going to stop the apocalypse."
The man behind the fanatic lifted an iron poker from his mother's fireplace, his lips thinning to a white line of anger, and then swiftly swung it down between his neck and shoulder with a solid thunk. Instead of crumpling to the floor, the man grunted slightly and turned his attention to his attacker, "Castiel, what a surprise to see you here."
Castiel glanced from the older man to Ben, seemed to focus on the little boy’s eyes for a split second before settling back on the other man, “He’s just a boy, Zachariah. There will be nothing left if he becomes the vessel. I thought we were above this.”
Zachariah scoffed, “You have done worse than this, don’t deny it. If this boy is what it takes to bring Michael forth, then so be it!” He lashed out, striking Ben’s savior across the face, sending the leaner body into the wall, plaster cracking underneath the weight. Castiel turned and grabbed Zachariah’s hand swiftly as he tried to punch him through the wall, swiftly jabbing him in the throat. Zachariah then kneed him in the stomach and Castiel folded to the floor, getting a kick to the face for his trouble. He landed on his back, skidding back a few inches from the fore of the blow, nose and mouth bleeding profusely.
“This is what we have come to? Brawling, like these animals?”
Castiel panted, stumbling back to his feet, eyes trained on Zachariah, “Ben, you must run. Get to Dean.”
Ben gasped, backing up slowly as Zachariah’s attention focused on the young boy. Castiel launched himself at the clearly older man, hands unerringly finding the soft spot in his throat. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would serve to distract Zachariah enough so that Ben could get away safely. He pushed his thumbs into that spot with all his strength, glancing back over his shoulder to see the little boy frozen on the spot, and yelled, “Run Ben!”
Ben’s eyes darted to Castiel, “But, mom-”
There is nothing we can do for your mother now, Ben. Run! Run hard, run fast, and don’t stop until you see the Impala. Tell Dean to drive to Bobby’s, and don’t stop. Go now!
Ben supposed he should be a little weirded-out that he could hear a voice in his head, not to mention the voice being the same one of the guy that just popped up in his hallway, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, he turned and launched himself down the stairs, skidding to a halt at the entranceway where the crumpled form of his mother’s body greeted him. His heart froze, and tears pricked at his eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to go back up the stairs and help the other man kill Zachariah. He shook his head hard, wiping away the tears that tracked down his face with his sleeve, he couldn’t afford to fall apart now, later, and when he and Dean were safe was when he could give voice to the grief welling inside his chest.
He ran out the door, unconcerned with closing it, because it wasn’t like he was going to be going back there anytime soon. He ran as fast as he could, his stocking feet pounding on the asphalt, he couldn’t feel the little flashes of pain as pebbles bit into the sensitive flesh of his feet. He tripped momentarily, his hands catching him as he fell, and he cried out as the rough ground tearing up his palms. His chest clenched as he lost precious moments for his escape.
He didn’t look back, not once, not even as he fell. He almost wept as he saw the sleek black paint of the Impala rounding the corner, running out in the middle of the nearly deserted road and waving his arms. The tires screeched as the car stopped suddenly, the driver’s side door opening to reveal a dark haired woman. Her eyes widened, running towards him and leaving the door wide open. She fell to her knee as she wrapped the little boy in her arms, shaking. Ben shoved his face into her neck, panting and trembling, trying not to sob. He felt a slight tug, and then he was being carried to the car, gently deposited in the front seat and buckled.
He stared out the window through bleary eyes, breath hitching in his chest. She slid behind the steering wheel and started the car. Ben twitched, “He said we have to get to Bobby’s. Don’t stop.”
She let out a shaky breath, “Right.”
He looked over at her, wondering just who she was. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, it was light brown and wavy, curling around her face and neck. She had fine lines winging from the corners of her bright green eyes, freckles dancing across her face. Her lips were tightly compressed, trembling ever so slightly as she yanked the steering wheel to the side, making a very illegal turn and gunning it the other way.
He could only assume that she was related to Dean, it was the way she carried herself, and the way she looked. She could have been his sister, maybe a twin. He looked away as her eyes filled, sniffing as she wiped her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her military jacket. “He’s going to be okay.” She said roughly.
The way she growled, it sounded just like Dean, and his chin trembled with the need to see him, for him to tell Ben that everything was going to be okay. Though it never will again, that fanatic erased everything that was Benjamin Isaac Braeden in just one sunny Wednesday afternoon. He stared outside the window, at the scenery whizzing by, wondering where this was going to end. Was he going to turn out like that Spanish guy in that movie he and his mother watched just a few nights ago, training himself to be a killer, constantly searching for the man that destroyed his life? Was his life going to be filled with pain, death and revenge? Right now, it was all he could think of.
They didn’t see as every window in Ben’s house shone like the sun, an instant later the street was showered in broken glass. The cars that lined that very same street shrilly rang out their displeasure, and off in the distance, a siren could be heard.
There were no birds.
There was no breeze.
There was nothing.
They arrived at Bobby’s in just enough time for the Impala to collapse, and Dean couldn’t blame her, she felt like doing the same. She pushed the pressure down for now, there were other things, other people to take care of now, and she couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. She got out of the car and walked around the hood, taking a deep breath to bolster her nerves. She unbuckled Ben, and gently carried him to the house as Sam and Ellen came out to greet her. She silently climbed the porch steps and stepped between the two, tenderly setting the sleeping form on the couch. She brushed back his hair, stroking the chestnut spikes, sniffing lightly at seeing the slight frown on his face.
She focused her eyes on his stocking feet, just now noticing the rust-colored stains of dried blood, letting out a little sob. The poor thing was bleeding the whole time and she didn’t notice, just kept driving and focusing on her own pain. She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily and hustled to the kitchen to get a pot of warm water. As she gathered her supplies: antibacterial cream, bandages, and a fresh pair of socks, she set to work on the little feet. She gently pulled the soiled socks off, they weren’t badly injured but she was sure they hurt like hell. She bathed the feet, working out the gravel and little pebbles that found their way into his wounds, and dried them carefully. She slathered the ointment on his feet, making sure she didn’t miss any little cut, and bandaged them lightly, sliding the socks onto his tiny feet.
Ben was wrapped snugly in a blanket found on the back of the couch, and he sighed as he tugged it tighter under his chin. Her lips trembled as she smiled, eyes watering slightly as she gazed at him. She scrubbed her eyes furiously; it was time for her to get to work.
She stood and turned around to see her family gazing back at her in concern. Sam looked at Bobby, then Ellen, and stepped forward, “Where’s Cas?”
Dean’s face hardened, blinking hard as she pushed past her brother to reach the kitchen, if she opened her mouth at this point, there was no telling what would come out. As she looked around the kitchen, her chest clenching with the effort to keep everything in, she suddenly just stopped. She looked outside unseeing, swaying ever so slightly, every muscle relaxing the slightest bit. As if in a daze, she walked over to a bucket of paint she had seen Bobby use that night Castiel came to them, she never noticed that pail sitting there the whole time she had stayed in that house since that night, and she guessed it was only fitting as she used it now.
She crouched down and grabbed the handle, and as she walked through the kitchen door, she grabbed a brush sitting on a table surrounded by other odds and ends. She didn’t hear as they called to her in concern, she had a job to do, and she was going to finish it. She would be damned if any other angel stepped foot in that house, if Castiel couldn’t any longer.
She breathed easily as she dipped the brush into the black paint, swirling the brush over the outside of the house in swirls and shapes she couldn’t begin to decipher. She didn’t know what or who was working through her, but she could only thank them as she felt the sigils casting a protective net across the space she was working in. She knew they were powerful; they hummed as they were finished, and if she cared to watch them, they slowly faded into the wall.
Her head snapped to the side as she felt Sam’s hand wrap tightly around her wrist, “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Dean?”
She growled inhumanely, jerking her wrist back with a strength her younger brother never knew she possessed, turning back to her work in single minded focus. Sam made a vain attempt to try again to stop Dean; they had to know what was going on and what the hell she was doing, but Bobby stop him, shaking his head ‘no’ when he tried to protest. They watched as Dean continued to fortify the house with a single-minded focus they only saw when she was cleaning a gun or eating a cheeseburger.
As soon as she finished, the pail and brush were unceremoniously dropped to the ground, and she walked silently back into the house, checked Ben while he slept, and trudged up the stairs. She shut the bathroom door firmly behind her, turning the shower on. She blinked slowly at her image in the mirror, eyes slowly tearing as her heart started to shatter into a million pieces.
”What are you doing Cas?! We got to get to Ben, don’t leave the car!”
“That’s what I’m doing Dean,” He said calmly, his hand on the handle, “I will get him to safety.”
“Don’t you leave me. You don’t know what you are getting into!”
Castiel turned to him, leaning forward and gently brushing her cheek, “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”
With that, he left the car in the blink of an eye. She gritted her teeth and turned her attention back on the road as the light turned green. She hoped he was right, for the sake of everything she had come to believe in, he had better be right.
She let out a broken sound, falling to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut in pain. She wrapped her arms across her stomach, hugging the pain and hurt in. He couldn’t have left, he couldn’t just be gone. She knew that if Castiel stood between Dean and choosing Michael, the other angel wouldn’t stand a chance against Zachariah. If he was willing to try to coerce a child into his fiendish plan, and kill a woman in cold blood, for that would be the only way the angel would be able to get that close to Ben, there was no hope that Castiel would have survived. He thought Dean didn’t notice just how much he had weakened; and that was what killed her that much more, the fact that even though she vowed to make sure Cas didn’t become what he did in just five years, he fell just the same. Whether the angel knew or not, Dean couldn’t guess.
She curled against the wall, shaking with the force of her tears, wishing that she could have said something to him that was better than an insult. The angel had been around for a millennia, what did Dean know about what Castiel could do in the first place? She wanted to believe that he got out safely; she wanted to just assume that he was okay and just holding up somewhere safe for a while.
She squeezed her eyes shut, she knew better than to get that close to someone. Their family was cursed, there was no way around it, there was no hope for the Winchester’s loved ones. She wanted to forget everything; pretend it was all just a dream, wishful thinking her mind was trying to deal with. She would wake up, be in her old body, and heavily hung over.
She sniffed and wiped her face roughly as she heard a knock at the door, pulling the door open to reveal Sam standing there. His brow furrowed at her tear-streaked face, and pulled her into his arms without a second thought. He let her scream, rail against his chest, pounding her little fists into any part of his body she could reach. All he did was hold her close, chin resting against the top of her hair, blinking away his own tears.
Ben woke the very next day, the sunlight warming his face and the birds in the distance waking him with their morning song. He blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes as he sat up from his warm nest on the couch. His brow furrowed.
Couch?
He looked around his unfamiliar surroundings in trepidation, he had hoped he knew the people who lived in this house, or this was going to turn into one horrible morning. Then, with a jolt that nearly stopped his heart, he remembered. His mother was dead, killed by some weird guy in a suit, blathering on about how he was going to stop the apocalypse. How he was attacked by another weird guy in a suit, who seemed to know Dean, or at least his family. They drove for miles, reaching a place Ben never thought he would actually visit unless he counted the few short months where he and his class were going on a field trip to Mount Rushmore. His mother didn’t get around to signing his permission slip, so he guessed he wasn’t going to be going there any time soon. Not that he really cared one way or another.
He sighed, shoulders hunching slightly, wished this was some terrible nightmare and he’d wake up in his bed while his mom made him breakfast downstairs, singing a little off-key to whatever music was playing in the background. He took a deep breath, brow furrowing as he smelled bacon.
He followed his nose to the kitchen, stepping gingerly as his bandaged feet hit the floor. He lurked at the doorway, unwilling to disturb the figure in front of the stove, humming softly to a country song playing on the radio. She rocked back and forth on her feet, cursing softly as the bacon was unwilling to flip.
“Son of a bitch!” She yelped as some grease popped, grabbing her bare forearm.
“Here, just go sit down, I can handle this.” Sam said, and Ben sighed in relief that he wasn’t going to be alone with this unknown person. The same unknown person that saved his life and seem so much like Dean, but nevertheless, the time spent in each other’s company without any distraction would have been awkward.
He stepped further into the kitchen, waving slightly as the woman’s face alighted on him, “Hey.”
She gave him a short nod, “Hey yourself. How’re your feet?”
Ben shrugged as he sat down at the table across from her, “They’re okay. Thanks.”
“No problem, I’m sure they hurt like-” She stopped herself as Sam coughed a warning, and she rolled her eyes, “Heck.”
“Hey Ben,” Sam turned around with two plates of food, “You hungry? I made more than I should have.”
He considered his stomach for a moment, he wasn’t too sure the empty feeling would go away by eating anything, but at least it would keep his strength up, “Yeah sure.”
Dean smiled, “You’re in luck, Sammy here can cook a mean meal when he puts his mind to it.”
As Sam set the food down in front of the little boy, Dean watched as he nervously took the fork and took a careful bite. It must have been good, for he cleared half of the plate in record time. She shook her head as Sam waved the other plate under her nose, “Nah, I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
“Just get me some toast then, my stomach’s queasy.” Sam huffed and sat the other plate down, turned back to the counter to do as Dean requested. It was silent in the kitchen for a time, Ben ate his breakfast, and Dean read the paper, occasionally sipping from a glass of orange juice. The easy domesticity unnerved Ben, he looked around and his brow furrowed, “Where’s Dean?”
Sam froze, and Dean kept her eyes on the paper, and just when Ben was going to ask again, Sam asked quietly, “How do you want to answer this one?”
“Tell him the truth I guess.” She answered. She sighed and set the paper down, resting her elbows on the table and threaded her fingers together. She leaned down and looked Ben in the eye, “Hey, Ben. It’s me, Dean.”
Ben frowned, then burst out laughing, “Yeah right, good one. Seriously, where is he?” When he noticed that neither one of the adults were joining in with his laughter, he sobered, “You’re not joking. You’re really Dean?”
The woman across him nodded solemnly, and if he wanted to be honest, there was a whole hell of a lot of Dean in her face. The boy shrugged, “I guess that’s cool. Billy Masterson’s cousin had a change ‘cause he didn’t want to be a dude anymore. Kinda weird if you ask me, but I guess you have your reasons.”
Dean frowned, “Whoa um….Not really what happened there. To me, that is.”
Ben shrugged, “Hey man, I’m not judging.”
Dean glared daggers at her brothers back when he heard him snort rather loudly. His shoulders shook and his hands gripped the counter for dear life. She growled, “I didn’t get a sex change! I like being a guy. It was Zachariah that did this.”
At the mention of the angel, Ben’s openly-smiling face shuttered close, “Oh.”
Dean sighed and moved closer to the boy, and put her arm around his shoulder, “He’s going to pay for this, Ben. I don’t know how, but we’ll get him.”
Ben sniffed, and snuggled closer into her side, “I wish this didn’t happen.”
She rubbed his arm, “I know, buddy. I know.” She clutched his hands, “Look, I know it’s not much, but will you stay with us? We’ll fix you up a room, take care of each other. It’s not the same, I know-”
She trailed off as Ben launched himself in her arms, shaking and holding her tightly around her waist. She sniffed and drew her arms around his frail frame, she never thought things were going to end up like this, and she wished it was through another way. She stroked his hair, gently rocking him as he calmed down. There was no way she could replace the people that Ben had lost, all because of Dean was the thought she refused to think of at the moment, but she was going to try her damndest to give him at least a half-way normal life.
She closed her eyes, and hoped she did the right thing.
Two weeks had gone by, in such time they refurbished a room across the hall from Dean’s for Ben, and Dean finally had the opportunity to teach someone else that would appreciate it, the fine art of fixing the Impala. It went surprisingly smoothly, it gave them both something to do, something to focus on other than the gaping maw of grief they both felt. Dean had told Ben about the pregnancy over teaching him about how to properly change oil in the car, which he had taken surprisingly well. Dean never asked why, and Ben never elaborated on the subject, the day passed smoothly from there on out. The days were easy to deal with; Dean and Ben were surrounded by a core net of people that loved them, each wanting to do their part in taking care of the two shattered souls.
The nights, however, were a different story.
She would lay in bed, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. She was too awake to close her eyes, even too afraid for what she would see if she dreamed, and she was too damn tired to stay awake. She would look outside the window listlessly, hoping to see a flash of...something, anything of Castiel’s. She had taken to ghosting around the house while everyone was asleep, cleaning, making any repairs that she could find. Bobby’s house never looked so well taken care of, one thing he was glad of, but still concerned about her welfare to really take any pleasure out of having a clean house.
Finally, Bobby had enough, confining Dean to the couch to take some much needed rest, all in sight of the older man of course. He didn’t trust her to rest on her own, if he did; there was no telling what would come of her sleepless wanderings. She lay on her back, propped up on a mountain of pillows, eating a bowl of popcorn and watching a movie.
She set the bowl down and lightly scratched her belly, frowning slightly. She looked down, and noticed how rounded it was, freakishly so in her opinion, and made a face.
“Is it just me,” She addressed to the whole room, “Or am I getting fat as hell?”
Sam shut the book he was reading, sharing a horrified look with Bobby. Ben looked over his shoulder from his position on the floor, warning the two men with wide eyes. Dean shifted, looking at her belly from different angles, poking it every few minutes.
“Um...” Sam coughed, ignoring Ben’s panicked arm waving, “No....you’re pregnant, dude. It happens.”
Bobby griped the bridge of his nose, sighing despondently. Ben flopped down, covering his head with his arms, and muttering, “God, you suck out loud.”
“What happens?”
Bobby and Ben froze, the air was tense and thick enough to cut with a butter knife. It was dangerous territory Sam was crossing, and one would think that with as much time as he spent as a hunter, he would have smelled that trap a mile away.
No one accused Sam of being particularly observant.
“You know, uh...” Sam cast his gaze around for any help, noticing in dismay as Ben and Bobby booked it about half a minute ago, to Lord only knew where, “Your belly is going to get a bit bigger. It happens.”
“So you’re saying its big now?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“So what are you saying, then?”
“I’m saying...” He searched the room for any safe topic, and the Lord must have listened to his prayers, Ellen stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, “Ellen’s here! Hey Ellen! How are ya?”
She threw him a look before addressing Dean, “You ready for your doctor’s appointment, or do you want to keep screwing with your brother some more?”
“Sure! I’ll take cold and slimy stuff on my body any day over sitting around on my ass.” She stopped in the middle of the room, “That totally didn’t come out right.”
The boys were gathered around the kitchen table, Jo was making dinner, as Ellen and Dean walked into the house a few hours later. Ellen was fighting the smile that threatened to stretch across her face, and Dean looked shell-shocked as she sat down at the table silently, tossing the new ultrasound picture on the table. Bobby and Sam both made a grab for it, Sam yanking his hand back with a hiss as the older hunter swatted him sharply on the knuckles.
His eyes widened as he looked the little black and white picture over, “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
“Oh yeah.” Dean replied absently, poking at the tabletop.
“What, what is it?” Sam questioned. “Is there something wrong with the baby?”
“Babies.”
“What?!”
“Exactly what she said, Sam.” Bobby handed over the picture, “Dean’s having twins.”
“No freaking way.” He breathed as he studied the picture, “Did the doctor say what kind?”
“Is there a difference?” Ben shrugged.
“Identical twins are two babies from one egg, and they are the same gender, looking exactly the same,” Ellen informed them calmly, the same information the doctor had given them. “Fraternal twins are two babies from separate eggs, and they can be different gender and sharing some characteristics.”
Ben tugged on Sam’s sleeve, “I wanna see.” He settled back in his chair, cradling the picture in his little hands. Dean scooted closer to him, looking over his shoulder.
“So what kind is Dean having?” Sam asked.
Dean took a deep breath, “Identical.”
“Whoa.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So how did you not know of this before?”
“I guess one of these little tadpoles was hiding behind the other one, it’s easy to mistake.”
Sam nodded, still a little stunned, “Do you know what you are having yet?”
“Way too soon to tell that, though I guess in a few months we’ll know.” Dean slung her arm around Ben, looking at the picture along with him.
Dinner was spent quietly; the picture was passed from person to person, until the image of the new little lives were lodged thoroughly into their minds. Dean turned in early that night, unable to keep up with the ooh’s and ahh’s any longer. It was times like these that she ached for Castiel presence. It had only been a few weeks since he disappeared, and though she thought he was dead, she hoped that he would just pop up like he did the last time when he was attacked by the archangels. She stroked her slightly rounded belly, hoping against hope that he survived, that he would somehow find a way back home.
Jo sighed as she slipped behind the wheel, it was starting. Ellen had told them it would happen, she just wasn’t sure exactly when. Dean had started to crave some pretty far-out stuff, things she wouldn’t have even touched when she was in her old body. First it started out small, chips mixed into tuna fish sandwich makings, lots of fruit, lots of vegetables; but this one took the cake.
Icee’s with hot sauce.
When she sat down at the table after getting gas with the biggest cup of red icee Jo had ever seen, no one thought anything of it. Until she reached into the refrigerator and pulled out the hot sauce, shaking a few drops into the drink, mixed it up and took a big gulp.
Sam made a disgusted face, “That is so unholy.”
“What?” She asked, spoon-straw still in her mouth, “Don’t knock ‘til you try it Sammy.”
“I wouldn’t touch that, even if you told me it would cure cancer. That is just wrong.”
Dean rolled her eyes and grinned at Ben, “Wanna try it?”
Ben considered the cup for a moment, then made a face, “I don’t know.”
“I’ll give you a dollar.”
Ben snorted, “Yeah, I’m ten, I wasn’t born yesterday. Ten bucks.”
“Yeah right! Five.”
“Nine.”
“Five.”
“Ok, seven.”
“You’ll get five.”
He shrugged, “Okay.” He carefully held the cup as Dean slid it over to him, watching as both grownups stared at him, Sam in horror, and Dean in interested amusement. He fought the laughter bubbling in his chest, if it was gross, he didn’t want to throw it back up because it went down the wrong pipe. He glared at Dean at the last second, throwing out his hand, “Shake on it.”
Dean chuckled and shook his hand, “You’re on.”
Ben shifted in his chair, and carefully mouthed the straw; he didn’t really care about cooties at this point. He took the tiniest sip, and didn’t really taste anything except the cold refreshing taste of the cherry ice, until he kept sucking, then the fiery hot of the sauce burst against his tongue, mixing with the sweetness of the cherry.
He took another swig, then gave it back, “It’s not that bad, pretty good actually.”
Sam squinted at the two across from him, “You guys are sick.”
They both turned to Jo, who up until now remained silent, and Dean asked, “Wanna try it?”
She shrugged, and took a swig, and considered the taste for a moment, “Yeah, that’s really gross.” Looking at their crestfallen expression she chuckled, “Fine, I’ll go to the store and get some more. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”
She revved the engine, and spent the few minute’s drive into town peacefully listening to the music on the radio, reveling as the wind blew through her hair. She rarely got to drive the car, and she loved it, even though it was for something as mundane as this. She was glad to do something for Dean, to put that rare smile on her face again, that was really only saved for Ben now. She frowned, she never asked Dean, or anyone else for that matter, about what had happened those few weeks ago. All she knew was that Castiel somehow didn’t make it back with them, and Dean thought he was dead, and she only knew that through Sam.
Why couldn’t the Winchesters have some happiness? She never thought they were cursed, but ever since what happened to Castiel-
“Holy shit!” She exclaimed, swerving the car slightly as she caught sight of the very person she was thinking of.
He was a slumped figure sitting at the side of the road, the once clean suit and trench coat was now horribly soiled. His hair stuck up at odd angles, dried blood flaking on his face and stained his once-white shirt. His knees were drawn up, and his head was propped up on his hand that rested on his knee, looking off into space blankly, wearily.
The brakes squealed as she slammed on them, throwing the car into park, and nimbly hopped out of the car. She hurried over to the angel, breathing a sigh of relief as his eyes alighted upon her and he straightened, “Where the hell have you been?! We were worried sick about you.”
He took a deep breath and frowned, “I don’t…exactly…know. Zachariah and I fought, I escaped, there was a lot of pain, and then I appeared on the side of the road somewhere outside Indiana.” He made no protest as she grabbed his arm and pulled him to the car, buckling him in safely.
“So how did you get all the way here?”
“I walked.” He said, as though that were obvious.
She growled, “Didn’t think of picking up a phone?”
“I had lost my cell phone, and I didn’t have any money. Panhandling is illegal, as many other things one can do to get money fast. I was more concerned about getting away from Zachariah and back to Bobby’s.”
“And Zachariah? How come he didn’t get a hold of you by now?”
“He will not be bothering us for a while. How is Dean?”
The easy transition from that cryptic statement to Dean freaked Jo out far more than anything else in a good long while. She cleared her throat, “She wasn’t doing so hot. Not for a while.”
“The baby?” He asked in alarm.
“The…baby…is fine.” She figured Dean would want to tell him the news as soon as she was through throttling the angel, “She’s just missed you. A lot. Like she’ll only sleep if we are around her, she can’t be trusted to be on her own. Ben seems to take good care of her though, they have gotten pretty close.”
He sighed in relief, “Good.”
“I’ll have you know, she’s going to kick the shit out of you.”
He watched the trees go by, “I am prepared for that.”
Castiel hesitated, still sitting in the car as Jo unbuckled her seatbelt. She put a hand on his arm, heart clenching at the sight of his nervous expression, “It’s going to be okay, she just really missed you. She thought you were dead, Cas. She might leave off kicking your ass for at least a couple days.”
“That doesn’t inspire comfort, but thank you.” He looked at the house, sighed, and opened the door.
He looked up in alarm as he heard the door slam shut, breath hitching in his chest as Dean stood there staring at him with wide, green eyes. Ben stood a little behind her, a hand on her belt in sudden shyness. He took a few steps away from the car, eyes trained on Dean, his breathing measuring harder as he gazed upon her. In turn, she took a few steps off the porch, stopping just as her feet touched the ground. A few seconds went by, and like a gun shooting off at the beginning of a race, Dean ran towards him, clutching him so hard his breath knocked out of him.
He couldn’t care about her sudden strength that made his bones creak, the tightness in his chest that had been there since he appeared on a road outside of Indiana relaxed so suddenly, it seemed as long he forgot how to breathe. He bit off a sob as his arms wrapped around her, holding her close, reveling in the feel of her heart beating widely against his chest.
He buried his face into her hair, inhaling the scent of her hair, of gun oil and fruity shampoo. He rubbed her back, feeling her shuddering against him, feeling the hot splash of tears against her neck. She pulled back, and smacked his arm.
Hard.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear me?!” She pointed at him with a shaking finger,
“You don’t go off alone. Ever. You no longer have that luxury, you understand?”
He mutely nodded his head, and as she pulled back to smack him again, he grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together, “I promise, I won’t frighten you again.”
“That’s not what I-” He kissed her to shut her up, she knew that, but she didn’t exactly care. She melted into his embrace, pulling back as he heard Sam’s throat clearing behind her. She didn’t look at her brother however, but gazed into the angel’s beautiful blue eyes, “Where have you been? You smell like cow patties, car exhaust, and…”
“Yeah... I fell in a ditch. It wasn’t pleasant.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up; I’m sure you can fit in my old clothes.”
“This isn’t what I thought we’d be doing after your shower,” Dean groused lightly as she picked up the trench coat in between her thumb and forefinger, dropping it into the washer. She didn’t really think it could be saved, but she owed it to the piece of clothing to at least clean it before they put it out of its misery.
Castiel leaned a hip against the dryer, looking almost at home in Dean’s old clothing. She shoved the rest of the laundry into the washer and grabbed his hand, “I’ve got something to show you.” Castiel frowned in question, but followed her lead into their room.
Dean settled beside him, looking rather nervous, “Okay, so you saw the last picture of the baby right?” At Castiel’s nod, Dean blew out a breath, “See what you make of this.”
He frowned, but took the picture anyway, looking it over thoughtfully. He stared at the picture for a few minutes, and it dropped from nerveless fingers as he realized what exactly he was seeing.
She picked up the picture and set it on the table next to the bed, “I guess one of them was hiding behind the other the last time the doctor took a picture of them. They’re identical, but we don’t know the gender yet.”
“Two?”
“Is that bad?”
He shook his head emphatically, cupping her face in between his hands, “This is…so wonderful, Dean. How this is possible, I have no idea, but I couldn’t be happier about this.” He brushed his lips against hers, “How have you been feeling?”
She pulled back, “Not too good, Cas.” She stood and paced, willing the excess energy away before she did something stupid, like beat the hell out of him, “I was so mad when you left the car. We didn’t know exactly what we were walking into, but you decided to go all ‘Riggs’ and went there all guns-a-blazing. We were supposed to go in together, especially since Zachariah was there. What were you thinking?”
He pursed his lips, “I was thinking of getting Ben out of there. I was thinking only of protecting you, our child, Ben and his mother. Unfortunately I couldn’t help her, but at least I got the rest of you out of there safely. Would you have done things differently, had you been me?”
“Oh don’t play that card with me.”
“I will play that card with you, Dean,” He slowly stood from the bed, and got into Dean’s space, forcing her to look him in the eye, “I have been on this Earth far longer than you realize, I know what is at stake. You are right, I didn’t know exactly what I was going into, and that was my fault. Should I have waited for you? No. Should I have flown us there? No, for I do not know how that would have affected you or the baby…babies. I did the only thing I thought I could do, and I’m not going to be sorry for it.” He gripped the sides of her neck gently, and exhaled through his nose, “I am sorry for hurting you. That is the only thing that I regret, is putting you through that.”
A tear dripped down her face, “You scared the hell out of me, Cas. I never felt about anyone like I feel about you. All the words that I’ve wanted to say to you, how I feel, burn in my throat to the point that I really don’t know what to say without it sounding forced. That feeling? Doesn’t compare to the one where I thought I lost you. I thought I lost my chance, and we probably did all of this ass-backwards, but I don’t care.” She broke away from him and hugged herself, “I love you. So damn much that I don’t really know how to function without you, and that’s what terrifies me, ‘cause there is going to come a day when you won’t come back, no matter what I want.”
He opened his mouth to deny, but was silenced as she put a finger to his lips, “Just shut up before I lose my nerve, because I have to get this out.” She gulped, “Everyone I love, everyone I feel that for? Has died Cas, horribly; and without any shred of mercy.” She nodded, looking away, “So I’m giving you an out. I can take care of myself, take care of Ben and the twins, and you won’t get hurt. We could just be friends, and I can be okay with that, knowing that you will be okay and that I have some reminder of what we could have had.”
“Dean-” He grabbed her upper arms firmly, “I don’t want to be friends. I don’t care what it takes to prove it to you, but I won’t leave you easily-”
“God, Cas,” she said wearily, “Everyone always leaves-”
He put his hand over her mouth, “You said your piece, now I will say mine. I will not leave you easily Dean, because no one that loves you really does. That is why they leave this plane the way they do, because they cannot leave you. I will not be happy with just being your friend, Dean, because that ache you feel? That burning? It’s the same way that I feel, that I felt long before I pulled you out of Hell. I will keep feeling that, when I’m with you, or when we are apart. The only thing I thought about when I left Zachariah, was how much I needed to see you, to touch you, to hear your voice; anything, just to be with you. I love you, will always love you.”
Dean sniffed, “I think we won an Emmy.”
Cas rolled his eyes, and pulled her closer, “Don’t ever give me an ‘out’ like that ever again. You are stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”
Dean frowned, but said nothing at the ominous sound of that statement. Castiel sighed, if he had it his way, she would never know what he had to do to get to her, but, he didn’t exactly know how to keep that secret from her for very long. His head and wings ached; he knew he had made a grave error in judgment by turning his back on Zachariah, the pain Castiel had felt as the angel ripped a large chunk of his grace from him was indescribable. He wasn’t as strong as he was before confronting Zachariah, and since being cast out of Heaven before that, it wasn’t saying much. He was no longer an angel, he wasn’t fully human, he no longer knew what he was.
Before, he rode the body he inhabited like a passenger looking outside a car, nothing touched him, he had felt so isolated save for the occasional touches he gave Dean. Now he could feel every shaky breath, the rush of the blood through his veins, the stretching of his muscles. He felt hungry, tired, sad, happy, aroused; everything was so new and yet so familiar. He didn’t have the time that everyone else was given to grow into his skin, into this body. He wanted to feel anything other than awe, and terror, but being with Dean always seemed to quiet the negative feelings he felt.
Her presence permeated the room with warmth and light, he breathed in her scent of sweetness and the smell that was just Dean, no matter what body he was living in. Her soft hair tickled his nose, her body easily folded into his own, so slim and frail. He felt her heart beating wildly against his chest like a small bird’s, her breath puffing against his neck, her slim arms wrapping around his waist, and he prayed. He prayed like he never had before, for himself, for Dean, for their unborn children, for everyone currently living in Bobby’s home. He hoped with all his mind, body and soul that someone, his Father, was listening. He buried his face into her hair, stealing some peace that wrapped around her, and breathed into her ear, making her the only promise he could make, “I will never leave you willingly, I will stay, right here, with you. I love you.”
Author: Wynna Pendragon
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: Set in Season 5
Warnings: Spoilers for everything up to Season 5, gender swap, implied non-graphic het sex, and pregnancy.
Word Count:7,590
Summary:“Is it just me,” She addressed to the whole room, “Or am I getting fat as hell?”
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters within, I just wanna toy with them for a while. ^^
Author's Notes: Thank you to kitty_alex for betaing. This was written for that very special person out there, you know who you are ^^. Previous Chapters can be found here.
Chapter Three
Ben gasped in terror, the man's eyes were filled with nothing but malice and fanatical glee, and the young man wondered what he wanted with him. His hand tightened on his skinny shoulder, fingertips digging cruelly into the soft tissue, and Ben flinched at the white hot pain he caused. He panted, looking around for anything to hit him with, anything that could possibly help him.
"Do not fear Ben, I won't hurt you. See, I can't hurt you, you are too precious to us to harm in any way. Know why?"
Ben's eyes darted from side to side, great, he was dealing with one of those people. His eyes caught the flash of movement just behind Zachariah, revealing the slight form of a guy in a khaki trench coat and dark suit. He gulped, decided to stall for time, "No, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"
The older man's eyes flashed, "You are going to stop the apocalypse."
The man behind the fanatic lifted an iron poker from his mother's fireplace, his lips thinning to a white line of anger, and then swiftly swung it down between his neck and shoulder with a solid thunk. Instead of crumpling to the floor, the man grunted slightly and turned his attention to his attacker, "Castiel, what a surprise to see you here."
Castiel glanced from the older man to Ben, seemed to focus on the little boy’s eyes for a split second before settling back on the other man, “He’s just a boy, Zachariah. There will be nothing left if he becomes the vessel. I thought we were above this.”
Zachariah scoffed, “You have done worse than this, don’t deny it. If this boy is what it takes to bring Michael forth, then so be it!” He lashed out, striking Ben’s savior across the face, sending the leaner body into the wall, plaster cracking underneath the weight. Castiel turned and grabbed Zachariah’s hand swiftly as he tried to punch him through the wall, swiftly jabbing him in the throat. Zachariah then kneed him in the stomach and Castiel folded to the floor, getting a kick to the face for his trouble. He landed on his back, skidding back a few inches from the fore of the blow, nose and mouth bleeding profusely.
“This is what we have come to? Brawling, like these animals?”
Castiel panted, stumbling back to his feet, eyes trained on Zachariah, “Ben, you must run. Get to Dean.”
Ben gasped, backing up slowly as Zachariah’s attention focused on the young boy. Castiel launched himself at the clearly older man, hands unerringly finding the soft spot in his throat. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would serve to distract Zachariah enough so that Ben could get away safely. He pushed his thumbs into that spot with all his strength, glancing back over his shoulder to see the little boy frozen on the spot, and yelled, “Run Ben!”
Ben’s eyes darted to Castiel, “But, mom-”
There is nothing we can do for your mother now, Ben. Run! Run hard, run fast, and don’t stop until you see the Impala. Tell Dean to drive to Bobby’s, and don’t stop. Go now!
Ben supposed he should be a little weirded-out that he could hear a voice in his head, not to mention the voice being the same one of the guy that just popped up in his hallway, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, he turned and launched himself down the stairs, skidding to a halt at the entranceway where the crumpled form of his mother’s body greeted him. His heart froze, and tears pricked at his eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to go back up the stairs and help the other man kill Zachariah. He shook his head hard, wiping away the tears that tracked down his face with his sleeve, he couldn’t afford to fall apart now, later, and when he and Dean were safe was when he could give voice to the grief welling inside his chest.
He ran out the door, unconcerned with closing it, because it wasn’t like he was going to be going back there anytime soon. He ran as fast as he could, his stocking feet pounding on the asphalt, he couldn’t feel the little flashes of pain as pebbles bit into the sensitive flesh of his feet. He tripped momentarily, his hands catching him as he fell, and he cried out as the rough ground tearing up his palms. His chest clenched as he lost precious moments for his escape.
He didn’t look back, not once, not even as he fell. He almost wept as he saw the sleek black paint of the Impala rounding the corner, running out in the middle of the nearly deserted road and waving his arms. The tires screeched as the car stopped suddenly, the driver’s side door opening to reveal a dark haired woman. Her eyes widened, running towards him and leaving the door wide open. She fell to her knee as she wrapped the little boy in her arms, shaking. Ben shoved his face into her neck, panting and trembling, trying not to sob. He felt a slight tug, and then he was being carried to the car, gently deposited in the front seat and buckled.
He stared out the window through bleary eyes, breath hitching in his chest. She slid behind the steering wheel and started the car. Ben twitched, “He said we have to get to Bobby’s. Don’t stop.”
She let out a shaky breath, “Right.”
He looked over at her, wondering just who she was. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, it was light brown and wavy, curling around her face and neck. She had fine lines winging from the corners of her bright green eyes, freckles dancing across her face. Her lips were tightly compressed, trembling ever so slightly as she yanked the steering wheel to the side, making a very illegal turn and gunning it the other way.
He could only assume that she was related to Dean, it was the way she carried herself, and the way she looked. She could have been his sister, maybe a twin. He looked away as her eyes filled, sniffing as she wiped her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her military jacket. “He’s going to be okay.” She said roughly.
The way she growled, it sounded just like Dean, and his chin trembled with the need to see him, for him to tell Ben that everything was going to be okay. Though it never will again, that fanatic erased everything that was Benjamin Isaac Braeden in just one sunny Wednesday afternoon. He stared outside the window, at the scenery whizzing by, wondering where this was going to end. Was he going to turn out like that Spanish guy in that movie he and his mother watched just a few nights ago, training himself to be a killer, constantly searching for the man that destroyed his life? Was his life going to be filled with pain, death and revenge? Right now, it was all he could think of.
They didn’t see as every window in Ben’s house shone like the sun, an instant later the street was showered in broken glass. The cars that lined that very same street shrilly rang out their displeasure, and off in the distance, a siren could be heard.
There were no birds.
There was no breeze.
There was nothing.
They arrived at Bobby’s in just enough time for the Impala to collapse, and Dean couldn’t blame her, she felt like doing the same. She pushed the pressure down for now, there were other things, other people to take care of now, and she couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. She got out of the car and walked around the hood, taking a deep breath to bolster her nerves. She unbuckled Ben, and gently carried him to the house as Sam and Ellen came out to greet her. She silently climbed the porch steps and stepped between the two, tenderly setting the sleeping form on the couch. She brushed back his hair, stroking the chestnut spikes, sniffing lightly at seeing the slight frown on his face.
She focused her eyes on his stocking feet, just now noticing the rust-colored stains of dried blood, letting out a little sob. The poor thing was bleeding the whole time and she didn’t notice, just kept driving and focusing on her own pain. She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily and hustled to the kitchen to get a pot of warm water. As she gathered her supplies: antibacterial cream, bandages, and a fresh pair of socks, she set to work on the little feet. She gently pulled the soiled socks off, they weren’t badly injured but she was sure they hurt like hell. She bathed the feet, working out the gravel and little pebbles that found their way into his wounds, and dried them carefully. She slathered the ointment on his feet, making sure she didn’t miss any little cut, and bandaged them lightly, sliding the socks onto his tiny feet.
Ben was wrapped snugly in a blanket found on the back of the couch, and he sighed as he tugged it tighter under his chin. Her lips trembled as she smiled, eyes watering slightly as she gazed at him. She scrubbed her eyes furiously; it was time for her to get to work.
She stood and turned around to see her family gazing back at her in concern. Sam looked at Bobby, then Ellen, and stepped forward, “Where’s Cas?”
Dean’s face hardened, blinking hard as she pushed past her brother to reach the kitchen, if she opened her mouth at this point, there was no telling what would come out. As she looked around the kitchen, her chest clenching with the effort to keep everything in, she suddenly just stopped. She looked outside unseeing, swaying ever so slightly, every muscle relaxing the slightest bit. As if in a daze, she walked over to a bucket of paint she had seen Bobby use that night Castiel came to them, she never noticed that pail sitting there the whole time she had stayed in that house since that night, and she guessed it was only fitting as she used it now.
She crouched down and grabbed the handle, and as she walked through the kitchen door, she grabbed a brush sitting on a table surrounded by other odds and ends. She didn’t hear as they called to her in concern, she had a job to do, and she was going to finish it. She would be damned if any other angel stepped foot in that house, if Castiel couldn’t any longer.
She breathed easily as she dipped the brush into the black paint, swirling the brush over the outside of the house in swirls and shapes she couldn’t begin to decipher. She didn’t know what or who was working through her, but she could only thank them as she felt the sigils casting a protective net across the space she was working in. She knew they were powerful; they hummed as they were finished, and if she cared to watch them, they slowly faded into the wall.
Her head snapped to the side as she felt Sam’s hand wrap tightly around her wrist, “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Dean?”
She growled inhumanely, jerking her wrist back with a strength her younger brother never knew she possessed, turning back to her work in single minded focus. Sam made a vain attempt to try again to stop Dean; they had to know what was going on and what the hell she was doing, but Bobby stop him, shaking his head ‘no’ when he tried to protest. They watched as Dean continued to fortify the house with a single-minded focus they only saw when she was cleaning a gun or eating a cheeseburger.
As soon as she finished, the pail and brush were unceremoniously dropped to the ground, and she walked silently back into the house, checked Ben while he slept, and trudged up the stairs. She shut the bathroom door firmly behind her, turning the shower on. She blinked slowly at her image in the mirror, eyes slowly tearing as her heart started to shatter into a million pieces.
”What are you doing Cas?! We got to get to Ben, don’t leave the car!”
“That’s what I’m doing Dean,” He said calmly, his hand on the handle, “I will get him to safety.”
“Don’t you leave me. You don’t know what you are getting into!”
Castiel turned to him, leaning forward and gently brushing her cheek, “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”
With that, he left the car in the blink of an eye. She gritted her teeth and turned her attention back on the road as the light turned green. She hoped he was right, for the sake of everything she had come to believe in, he had better be right.
She let out a broken sound, falling to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut in pain. She wrapped her arms across her stomach, hugging the pain and hurt in. He couldn’t have left, he couldn’t just be gone. She knew that if Castiel stood between Dean and choosing Michael, the other angel wouldn’t stand a chance against Zachariah. If he was willing to try to coerce a child into his fiendish plan, and kill a woman in cold blood, for that would be the only way the angel would be able to get that close to Ben, there was no hope that Castiel would have survived. He thought Dean didn’t notice just how much he had weakened; and that was what killed her that much more, the fact that even though she vowed to make sure Cas didn’t become what he did in just five years, he fell just the same. Whether the angel knew or not, Dean couldn’t guess.
She curled against the wall, shaking with the force of her tears, wishing that she could have said something to him that was better than an insult. The angel had been around for a millennia, what did Dean know about what Castiel could do in the first place? She wanted to believe that he got out safely; she wanted to just assume that he was okay and just holding up somewhere safe for a while.
She squeezed her eyes shut, she knew better than to get that close to someone. Their family was cursed, there was no way around it, there was no hope for the Winchester’s loved ones. She wanted to forget everything; pretend it was all just a dream, wishful thinking her mind was trying to deal with. She would wake up, be in her old body, and heavily hung over.
She sniffed and wiped her face roughly as she heard a knock at the door, pulling the door open to reveal Sam standing there. His brow furrowed at her tear-streaked face, and pulled her into his arms without a second thought. He let her scream, rail against his chest, pounding her little fists into any part of his body she could reach. All he did was hold her close, chin resting against the top of her hair, blinking away his own tears.
Ben woke the very next day, the sunlight warming his face and the birds in the distance waking him with their morning song. He blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes as he sat up from his warm nest on the couch. His brow furrowed.
Couch?
He looked around his unfamiliar surroundings in trepidation, he had hoped he knew the people who lived in this house, or this was going to turn into one horrible morning. Then, with a jolt that nearly stopped his heart, he remembered. His mother was dead, killed by some weird guy in a suit, blathering on about how he was going to stop the apocalypse. How he was attacked by another weird guy in a suit, who seemed to know Dean, or at least his family. They drove for miles, reaching a place Ben never thought he would actually visit unless he counted the few short months where he and his class were going on a field trip to Mount Rushmore. His mother didn’t get around to signing his permission slip, so he guessed he wasn’t going to be going there any time soon. Not that he really cared one way or another.
He sighed, shoulders hunching slightly, wished this was some terrible nightmare and he’d wake up in his bed while his mom made him breakfast downstairs, singing a little off-key to whatever music was playing in the background. He took a deep breath, brow furrowing as he smelled bacon.
He followed his nose to the kitchen, stepping gingerly as his bandaged feet hit the floor. He lurked at the doorway, unwilling to disturb the figure in front of the stove, humming softly to a country song playing on the radio. She rocked back and forth on her feet, cursing softly as the bacon was unwilling to flip.
“Son of a bitch!” She yelped as some grease popped, grabbing her bare forearm.
“Here, just go sit down, I can handle this.” Sam said, and Ben sighed in relief that he wasn’t going to be alone with this unknown person. The same unknown person that saved his life and seem so much like Dean, but nevertheless, the time spent in each other’s company without any distraction would have been awkward.
He stepped further into the kitchen, waving slightly as the woman’s face alighted on him, “Hey.”
She gave him a short nod, “Hey yourself. How’re your feet?”
Ben shrugged as he sat down at the table across from her, “They’re okay. Thanks.”
“No problem, I’m sure they hurt like-” She stopped herself as Sam coughed a warning, and she rolled her eyes, “Heck.”
“Hey Ben,” Sam turned around with two plates of food, “You hungry? I made more than I should have.”
He considered his stomach for a moment, he wasn’t too sure the empty feeling would go away by eating anything, but at least it would keep his strength up, “Yeah sure.”
Dean smiled, “You’re in luck, Sammy here can cook a mean meal when he puts his mind to it.”
As Sam set the food down in front of the little boy, Dean watched as he nervously took the fork and took a careful bite. It must have been good, for he cleared half of the plate in record time. She shook her head as Sam waved the other plate under her nose, “Nah, I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
“Just get me some toast then, my stomach’s queasy.” Sam huffed and sat the other plate down, turned back to the counter to do as Dean requested. It was silent in the kitchen for a time, Ben ate his breakfast, and Dean read the paper, occasionally sipping from a glass of orange juice. The easy domesticity unnerved Ben, he looked around and his brow furrowed, “Where’s Dean?”
Sam froze, and Dean kept her eyes on the paper, and just when Ben was going to ask again, Sam asked quietly, “How do you want to answer this one?”
“Tell him the truth I guess.” She answered. She sighed and set the paper down, resting her elbows on the table and threaded her fingers together. She leaned down and looked Ben in the eye, “Hey, Ben. It’s me, Dean.”
Ben frowned, then burst out laughing, “Yeah right, good one. Seriously, where is he?” When he noticed that neither one of the adults were joining in with his laughter, he sobered, “You’re not joking. You’re really Dean?”
The woman across him nodded solemnly, and if he wanted to be honest, there was a whole hell of a lot of Dean in her face. The boy shrugged, “I guess that’s cool. Billy Masterson’s cousin had a change ‘cause he didn’t want to be a dude anymore. Kinda weird if you ask me, but I guess you have your reasons.”
Dean frowned, “Whoa um….Not really what happened there. To me, that is.”
Ben shrugged, “Hey man, I’m not judging.”
Dean glared daggers at her brothers back when he heard him snort rather loudly. His shoulders shook and his hands gripped the counter for dear life. She growled, “I didn’t get a sex change! I like being a guy. It was Zachariah that did this.”
At the mention of the angel, Ben’s openly-smiling face shuttered close, “Oh.”
Dean sighed and moved closer to the boy, and put her arm around his shoulder, “He’s going to pay for this, Ben. I don’t know how, but we’ll get him.”
Ben sniffed, and snuggled closer into her side, “I wish this didn’t happen.”
She rubbed his arm, “I know, buddy. I know.” She clutched his hands, “Look, I know it’s not much, but will you stay with us? We’ll fix you up a room, take care of each other. It’s not the same, I know-”
She trailed off as Ben launched himself in her arms, shaking and holding her tightly around her waist. She sniffed and drew her arms around his frail frame, she never thought things were going to end up like this, and she wished it was through another way. She stroked his hair, gently rocking him as he calmed down. There was no way she could replace the people that Ben had lost, all because of Dean was the thought she refused to think of at the moment, but she was going to try her damndest to give him at least a half-way normal life.
She closed her eyes, and hoped she did the right thing.
Two weeks had gone by, in such time they refurbished a room across the hall from Dean’s for Ben, and Dean finally had the opportunity to teach someone else that would appreciate it, the fine art of fixing the Impala. It went surprisingly smoothly, it gave them both something to do, something to focus on other than the gaping maw of grief they both felt. Dean had told Ben about the pregnancy over teaching him about how to properly change oil in the car, which he had taken surprisingly well. Dean never asked why, and Ben never elaborated on the subject, the day passed smoothly from there on out. The days were easy to deal with; Dean and Ben were surrounded by a core net of people that loved them, each wanting to do their part in taking care of the two shattered souls.
The nights, however, were a different story.
She would lay in bed, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. She was too awake to close her eyes, even too afraid for what she would see if she dreamed, and she was too damn tired to stay awake. She would look outside the window listlessly, hoping to see a flash of...something, anything of Castiel’s. She had taken to ghosting around the house while everyone was asleep, cleaning, making any repairs that she could find. Bobby’s house never looked so well taken care of, one thing he was glad of, but still concerned about her welfare to really take any pleasure out of having a clean house.
Finally, Bobby had enough, confining Dean to the couch to take some much needed rest, all in sight of the older man of course. He didn’t trust her to rest on her own, if he did; there was no telling what would come of her sleepless wanderings. She lay on her back, propped up on a mountain of pillows, eating a bowl of popcorn and watching a movie.
She set the bowl down and lightly scratched her belly, frowning slightly. She looked down, and noticed how rounded it was, freakishly so in her opinion, and made a face.
“Is it just me,” She addressed to the whole room, “Or am I getting fat as hell?”
Sam shut the book he was reading, sharing a horrified look with Bobby. Ben looked over his shoulder from his position on the floor, warning the two men with wide eyes. Dean shifted, looking at her belly from different angles, poking it every few minutes.
“Um...” Sam coughed, ignoring Ben’s panicked arm waving, “No....you’re pregnant, dude. It happens.”
Bobby griped the bridge of his nose, sighing despondently. Ben flopped down, covering his head with his arms, and muttering, “God, you suck out loud.”
“What happens?”
Bobby and Ben froze, the air was tense and thick enough to cut with a butter knife. It was dangerous territory Sam was crossing, and one would think that with as much time as he spent as a hunter, he would have smelled that trap a mile away.
No one accused Sam of being particularly observant.
“You know, uh...” Sam cast his gaze around for any help, noticing in dismay as Ben and Bobby booked it about half a minute ago, to Lord only knew where, “Your belly is going to get a bit bigger. It happens.”
“So you’re saying its big now?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“So what are you saying, then?”
“I’m saying...” He searched the room for any safe topic, and the Lord must have listened to his prayers, Ellen stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, “Ellen’s here! Hey Ellen! How are ya?”
She threw him a look before addressing Dean, “You ready for your doctor’s appointment, or do you want to keep screwing with your brother some more?”
“Sure! I’ll take cold and slimy stuff on my body any day over sitting around on my ass.” She stopped in the middle of the room, “That totally didn’t come out right.”
The boys were gathered around the kitchen table, Jo was making dinner, as Ellen and Dean walked into the house a few hours later. Ellen was fighting the smile that threatened to stretch across her face, and Dean looked shell-shocked as she sat down at the table silently, tossing the new ultrasound picture on the table. Bobby and Sam both made a grab for it, Sam yanking his hand back with a hiss as the older hunter swatted him sharply on the knuckles.
His eyes widened as he looked the little black and white picture over, “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
“Oh yeah.” Dean replied absently, poking at the tabletop.
“What, what is it?” Sam questioned. “Is there something wrong with the baby?”
“Babies.”
“What?!”
“Exactly what she said, Sam.” Bobby handed over the picture, “Dean’s having twins.”
“No freaking way.” He breathed as he studied the picture, “Did the doctor say what kind?”
“Is there a difference?” Ben shrugged.
“Identical twins are two babies from one egg, and they are the same gender, looking exactly the same,” Ellen informed them calmly, the same information the doctor had given them. “Fraternal twins are two babies from separate eggs, and they can be different gender and sharing some characteristics.”
Ben tugged on Sam’s sleeve, “I wanna see.” He settled back in his chair, cradling the picture in his little hands. Dean scooted closer to him, looking over his shoulder.
“So what kind is Dean having?” Sam asked.
Dean took a deep breath, “Identical.”
“Whoa.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So how did you not know of this before?”
“I guess one of these little tadpoles was hiding behind the other one, it’s easy to mistake.”
Sam nodded, still a little stunned, “Do you know what you are having yet?”
“Way too soon to tell that, though I guess in a few months we’ll know.” Dean slung her arm around Ben, looking at the picture along with him.
Dinner was spent quietly; the picture was passed from person to person, until the image of the new little lives were lodged thoroughly into their minds. Dean turned in early that night, unable to keep up with the ooh’s and ahh’s any longer. It was times like these that she ached for Castiel presence. It had only been a few weeks since he disappeared, and though she thought he was dead, she hoped that he would just pop up like he did the last time when he was attacked by the archangels. She stroked her slightly rounded belly, hoping against hope that he survived, that he would somehow find a way back home.
Jo sighed as she slipped behind the wheel, it was starting. Ellen had told them it would happen, she just wasn’t sure exactly when. Dean had started to crave some pretty far-out stuff, things she wouldn’t have even touched when she was in her old body. First it started out small, chips mixed into tuna fish sandwich makings, lots of fruit, lots of vegetables; but this one took the cake.
Icee’s with hot sauce.
When she sat down at the table after getting gas with the biggest cup of red icee Jo had ever seen, no one thought anything of it. Until she reached into the refrigerator and pulled out the hot sauce, shaking a few drops into the drink, mixed it up and took a big gulp.
Sam made a disgusted face, “That is so unholy.”
“What?” She asked, spoon-straw still in her mouth, “Don’t knock ‘til you try it Sammy.”
“I wouldn’t touch that, even if you told me it would cure cancer. That is just wrong.”
Dean rolled her eyes and grinned at Ben, “Wanna try it?”
Ben considered the cup for a moment, then made a face, “I don’t know.”
“I’ll give you a dollar.”
Ben snorted, “Yeah, I’m ten, I wasn’t born yesterday. Ten bucks.”
“Yeah right! Five.”
“Nine.”
“Five.”
“Ok, seven.”
“You’ll get five.”
He shrugged, “Okay.” He carefully held the cup as Dean slid it over to him, watching as both grownups stared at him, Sam in horror, and Dean in interested amusement. He fought the laughter bubbling in his chest, if it was gross, he didn’t want to throw it back up because it went down the wrong pipe. He glared at Dean at the last second, throwing out his hand, “Shake on it.”
Dean chuckled and shook his hand, “You’re on.”
Ben shifted in his chair, and carefully mouthed the straw; he didn’t really care about cooties at this point. He took the tiniest sip, and didn’t really taste anything except the cold refreshing taste of the cherry ice, until he kept sucking, then the fiery hot of the sauce burst against his tongue, mixing with the sweetness of the cherry.
He took another swig, then gave it back, “It’s not that bad, pretty good actually.”
Sam squinted at the two across from him, “You guys are sick.”
They both turned to Jo, who up until now remained silent, and Dean asked, “Wanna try it?”
She shrugged, and took a swig, and considered the taste for a moment, “Yeah, that’s really gross.” Looking at their crestfallen expression she chuckled, “Fine, I’ll go to the store and get some more. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”
She revved the engine, and spent the few minute’s drive into town peacefully listening to the music on the radio, reveling as the wind blew through her hair. She rarely got to drive the car, and she loved it, even though it was for something as mundane as this. She was glad to do something for Dean, to put that rare smile on her face again, that was really only saved for Ben now. She frowned, she never asked Dean, or anyone else for that matter, about what had happened those few weeks ago. All she knew was that Castiel somehow didn’t make it back with them, and Dean thought he was dead, and she only knew that through Sam.
Why couldn’t the Winchesters have some happiness? She never thought they were cursed, but ever since what happened to Castiel-
“Holy shit!” She exclaimed, swerving the car slightly as she caught sight of the very person she was thinking of.
He was a slumped figure sitting at the side of the road, the once clean suit and trench coat was now horribly soiled. His hair stuck up at odd angles, dried blood flaking on his face and stained his once-white shirt. His knees were drawn up, and his head was propped up on his hand that rested on his knee, looking off into space blankly, wearily.
The brakes squealed as she slammed on them, throwing the car into park, and nimbly hopped out of the car. She hurried over to the angel, breathing a sigh of relief as his eyes alighted upon her and he straightened, “Where the hell have you been?! We were worried sick about you.”
He took a deep breath and frowned, “I don’t…exactly…know. Zachariah and I fought, I escaped, there was a lot of pain, and then I appeared on the side of the road somewhere outside Indiana.” He made no protest as she grabbed his arm and pulled him to the car, buckling him in safely.
“So how did you get all the way here?”
“I walked.” He said, as though that were obvious.
She growled, “Didn’t think of picking up a phone?”
“I had lost my cell phone, and I didn’t have any money. Panhandling is illegal, as many other things one can do to get money fast. I was more concerned about getting away from Zachariah and back to Bobby’s.”
“And Zachariah? How come he didn’t get a hold of you by now?”
“He will not be bothering us for a while. How is Dean?”
The easy transition from that cryptic statement to Dean freaked Jo out far more than anything else in a good long while. She cleared her throat, “She wasn’t doing so hot. Not for a while.”
“The baby?” He asked in alarm.
“The…baby…is fine.” She figured Dean would want to tell him the news as soon as she was through throttling the angel, “She’s just missed you. A lot. Like she’ll only sleep if we are around her, she can’t be trusted to be on her own. Ben seems to take good care of her though, they have gotten pretty close.”
He sighed in relief, “Good.”
“I’ll have you know, she’s going to kick the shit out of you.”
He watched the trees go by, “I am prepared for that.”
Castiel hesitated, still sitting in the car as Jo unbuckled her seatbelt. She put a hand on his arm, heart clenching at the sight of his nervous expression, “It’s going to be okay, she just really missed you. She thought you were dead, Cas. She might leave off kicking your ass for at least a couple days.”
“That doesn’t inspire comfort, but thank you.” He looked at the house, sighed, and opened the door.
He looked up in alarm as he heard the door slam shut, breath hitching in his chest as Dean stood there staring at him with wide, green eyes. Ben stood a little behind her, a hand on her belt in sudden shyness. He took a few steps away from the car, eyes trained on Dean, his breathing measuring harder as he gazed upon her. In turn, she took a few steps off the porch, stopping just as her feet touched the ground. A few seconds went by, and like a gun shooting off at the beginning of a race, Dean ran towards him, clutching him so hard his breath knocked out of him.
He couldn’t care about her sudden strength that made his bones creak, the tightness in his chest that had been there since he appeared on a road outside of Indiana relaxed so suddenly, it seemed as long he forgot how to breathe. He bit off a sob as his arms wrapped around her, holding her close, reveling in the feel of her heart beating widely against his chest.
He buried his face into her hair, inhaling the scent of her hair, of gun oil and fruity shampoo. He rubbed her back, feeling her shuddering against him, feeling the hot splash of tears against her neck. She pulled back, and smacked his arm.
Hard.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear me?!” She pointed at him with a shaking finger,
“You don’t go off alone. Ever. You no longer have that luxury, you understand?”
He mutely nodded his head, and as she pulled back to smack him again, he grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together, “I promise, I won’t frighten you again.”
“That’s not what I-” He kissed her to shut her up, she knew that, but she didn’t exactly care. She melted into his embrace, pulling back as he heard Sam’s throat clearing behind her. She didn’t look at her brother however, but gazed into the angel’s beautiful blue eyes, “Where have you been? You smell like cow patties, car exhaust, and…”
“Yeah... I fell in a ditch. It wasn’t pleasant.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up; I’m sure you can fit in my old clothes.”
“This isn’t what I thought we’d be doing after your shower,” Dean groused lightly as she picked up the trench coat in between her thumb and forefinger, dropping it into the washer. She didn’t really think it could be saved, but she owed it to the piece of clothing to at least clean it before they put it out of its misery.
Castiel leaned a hip against the dryer, looking almost at home in Dean’s old clothing. She shoved the rest of the laundry into the washer and grabbed his hand, “I’ve got something to show you.” Castiel frowned in question, but followed her lead into their room.
Dean settled beside him, looking rather nervous, “Okay, so you saw the last picture of the baby right?” At Castiel’s nod, Dean blew out a breath, “See what you make of this.”
He frowned, but took the picture anyway, looking it over thoughtfully. He stared at the picture for a few minutes, and it dropped from nerveless fingers as he realized what exactly he was seeing.
She picked up the picture and set it on the table next to the bed, “I guess one of them was hiding behind the other the last time the doctor took a picture of them. They’re identical, but we don’t know the gender yet.”
“Two?”
“Is that bad?”
He shook his head emphatically, cupping her face in between his hands, “This is…so wonderful, Dean. How this is possible, I have no idea, but I couldn’t be happier about this.” He brushed his lips against hers, “How have you been feeling?”
She pulled back, “Not too good, Cas.” She stood and paced, willing the excess energy away before she did something stupid, like beat the hell out of him, “I was so mad when you left the car. We didn’t know exactly what we were walking into, but you decided to go all ‘Riggs’ and went there all guns-a-blazing. We were supposed to go in together, especially since Zachariah was there. What were you thinking?”
He pursed his lips, “I was thinking of getting Ben out of there. I was thinking only of protecting you, our child, Ben and his mother. Unfortunately I couldn’t help her, but at least I got the rest of you out of there safely. Would you have done things differently, had you been me?”
“Oh don’t play that card with me.”
“I will play that card with you, Dean,” He slowly stood from the bed, and got into Dean’s space, forcing her to look him in the eye, “I have been on this Earth far longer than you realize, I know what is at stake. You are right, I didn’t know exactly what I was going into, and that was my fault. Should I have waited for you? No. Should I have flown us there? No, for I do not know how that would have affected you or the baby…babies. I did the only thing I thought I could do, and I’m not going to be sorry for it.” He gripped the sides of her neck gently, and exhaled through his nose, “I am sorry for hurting you. That is the only thing that I regret, is putting you through that.”
A tear dripped down her face, “You scared the hell out of me, Cas. I never felt about anyone like I feel about you. All the words that I’ve wanted to say to you, how I feel, burn in my throat to the point that I really don’t know what to say without it sounding forced. That feeling? Doesn’t compare to the one where I thought I lost you. I thought I lost my chance, and we probably did all of this ass-backwards, but I don’t care.” She broke away from him and hugged herself, “I love you. So damn much that I don’t really know how to function without you, and that’s what terrifies me, ‘cause there is going to come a day when you won’t come back, no matter what I want.”
He opened his mouth to deny, but was silenced as she put a finger to his lips, “Just shut up before I lose my nerve, because I have to get this out.” She gulped, “Everyone I love, everyone I feel that for? Has died Cas, horribly; and without any shred of mercy.” She nodded, looking away, “So I’m giving you an out. I can take care of myself, take care of Ben and the twins, and you won’t get hurt. We could just be friends, and I can be okay with that, knowing that you will be okay and that I have some reminder of what we could have had.”
“Dean-” He grabbed her upper arms firmly, “I don’t want to be friends. I don’t care what it takes to prove it to you, but I won’t leave you easily-”
“God, Cas,” she said wearily, “Everyone always leaves-”
He put his hand over her mouth, “You said your piece, now I will say mine. I will not leave you easily Dean, because no one that loves you really does. That is why they leave this plane the way they do, because they cannot leave you. I will not be happy with just being your friend, Dean, because that ache you feel? That burning? It’s the same way that I feel, that I felt long before I pulled you out of Hell. I will keep feeling that, when I’m with you, or when we are apart. The only thing I thought about when I left Zachariah, was how much I needed to see you, to touch you, to hear your voice; anything, just to be with you. I love you, will always love you.”
Dean sniffed, “I think we won an Emmy.”
Cas rolled his eyes, and pulled her closer, “Don’t ever give me an ‘out’ like that ever again. You are stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”
Dean frowned, but said nothing at the ominous sound of that statement. Castiel sighed, if he had it his way, she would never know what he had to do to get to her, but, he didn’t exactly know how to keep that secret from her for very long. His head and wings ached; he knew he had made a grave error in judgment by turning his back on Zachariah, the pain Castiel had felt as the angel ripped a large chunk of his grace from him was indescribable. He wasn’t as strong as he was before confronting Zachariah, and since being cast out of Heaven before that, it wasn’t saying much. He was no longer an angel, he wasn’t fully human, he no longer knew what he was.
Before, he rode the body he inhabited like a passenger looking outside a car, nothing touched him, he had felt so isolated save for the occasional touches he gave Dean. Now he could feel every shaky breath, the rush of the blood through his veins, the stretching of his muscles. He felt hungry, tired, sad, happy, aroused; everything was so new and yet so familiar. He didn’t have the time that everyone else was given to grow into his skin, into this body. He wanted to feel anything other than awe, and terror, but being with Dean always seemed to quiet the negative feelings he felt.
Her presence permeated the room with warmth and light, he breathed in her scent of sweetness and the smell that was just Dean, no matter what body he was living in. Her soft hair tickled his nose, her body easily folded into his own, so slim and frail. He felt her heart beating wildly against his chest like a small bird’s, her breath puffing against his neck, her slim arms wrapping around his waist, and he prayed. He prayed like he never had before, for himself, for Dean, for their unborn children, for everyone currently living in Bobby’s home. He hoped with all his mind, body and soul that someone, his Father, was listening. He buried his face into her hair, stealing some peace that wrapped around her, and breathed into her ear, making her the only promise he could make, “I will never leave you willingly, I will stay, right here, with you. I love you.”