Fic: Stand a Little Rain
Title: Stand A Little Rain
Author: darth_firefly
Artist: chosenfire28
Genre/Paring: AU, Dean/Gabriel, Sam/Jess, mentions of Sam/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count:56,463
Warnings/Spoilers: Mpreg, mild language, mild violence. slight gore - spoilers - no spoilers as long as you've seen SPN up to and including Season 5.
Summary: What if everything depended on a single, simple choice? Right after Sam left for Stanford and John took off for hunts unknown, Dean met up with a man in the middle of the afternoon over lunch - and they elected to spend the rest of the day (and night) together. Should have been a simple one night stand for Dean and Gabriel - except Gabriel forgot one thing in the heat of the moment - there are times when angels can impregnate a human, regardless of their gender. When he realized the possibility - he went to find Dean. When he found him, Gabriel decided that the best thing to do for everyone is to stop the whole Apocalypse cold. Unfortunately, he didn't count on Michael having an issue with his little brother playing house with his true vessel and their half-angelic daughter, Sara.
John couldn't say he was surprised when he tried to ring back the number Dean had called him with and he was told it was disconnected. The area code for the number was one for Hawaii - he seriously doubted that was where his son was. Whatever the fuck had taken and impregnated Dean didn't want to be found. If he wasn't on outs with Bobby Singer again, he'd ask the man to look into what could pass the demon/witch test and get a man pregnant. There couldn't be that many things left that could do it that actually existed. If he asked Jim for help, he'd get that stupid angel spiel again. There were no such things as angels. If there were, they obviously didn't seem to give a shit about getting rid of demons before they attacked innocent people like his family.
With no leads on Dean, not even an idea of where to start to looking again, here he was, returning to Windom on the chance that there still might be two ghouls in town. If the creature who had Dean was sending him on a wild goose chase, he'd have one more reason to find a way to kill the freak. When he found Dean, he'd kill the bastard - there had to be a way to do it - and then, then he'd deal with the monster his son was carrying. It wouldn't be easy, judging from the conversation, Dean had gotten attached to the little beast. Hell, the spawn had probably messed with his son's mind into thinking he cared about it.
Coming back to Windom was almost like going back to Lawrence. His friend in town, Joe Barton, had said he would take care of any problems that arose after John had left town. He turned up the collar of his leather jacket as he crossed the gravel lot to walk into Cousin Oliver's diner, hoping that he could wrap this up very quickly - and then he could start looking for Dean again. He'd find a trail, someone somewhere knew something. He slid into a booth, inhaling the wonderful scent of fried onions and strong coffee.
“Welcome to Cousin Oliver's. Can I bring you something to drink?” The waitress set a menu down in front of him.
“Coffee, please.” He looked up and gave the woman a tired smile.
“Sure. Just to let you know, we are out of strawberry-rhubarb pie. We should have more tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” John watched her go to another table and turned his attention to the menu. He wondered if the meatloaf was as good as it was ten years ago. If the cook hadn't changed, it should be.
“John? John is that you?” A voice called from the counter and he looked up. A tired blond woman was looking at him as if she'd seen a ghost. He blinked in surprise when his memory caught up with him.
“Kate?”
The woman picked up her cup of coffee and sat down on the other side of John's booth, still staring at him. “I... I didn't think you'd come back to Windom.”
“Thought I'd double check things.” It was the safest answer he could think to give as the waitress came back over and set down John's coffee.
“What can I get you today?”
“Meatloaf - what's today's vegetable?”
“Green beans.” She scrawled the order down on her pad. “You want me to bring you that slice of cake over here, Kate?”
“Please.” She replied and the waitress walked off again. As soon as she was out of earshot, the woman turned back to John. “I - are there more of those... things?”
“There might be. Like I said, double checking.” John took a sip of his coffee, feeling rather weird - like he was on a first date or something. Eleven years ago, he'd spent three nights in this woman's bed. Bit awkward - and she was the reason he hoped he never ran into a Woman in White without backup.
“I see.” She looked down into her mug as the waitress set a fork and a plate containing a large slice of yellow cake on the table and then walked off again. “Um, how long are you in town for?”
“Few days, maybe a week. Joe Barton still around?”
“Yes, I've got his number in my cell, if you need it.”
“Kate, is something wrong?”
“Why would you think that?” John noted that her hand shook a little as she took a sip of coffee.
“Because you seem nervous. Is there something I should know about?”
Kate set her cup down, but didn't let go of it. Instead, she wrapped her hands around it, her gaze more on the dark liquid than anything. “You said you came to double check things. Did... did that include checking on me?”
“I thought you'd left Windom for Chicago. You told me you were going to go to med school down there.”
“Change of plans.” She took a deep breath. “You still drive that black Impala?”
“Not recently. My son drives it now.” John hoped that Dean still had the car.
“You didn't mention you had kids when I met you, John.”
“He doesn't live with me.” John rubbed his eyes. “It's a long story.”
“Always was, with you.” She laughed softly. “I uh... how many kids do you have?”
“Just two, both boys. Dean's off somewhere and Sam's in college.”
“Oh, they're all grown up then,” she picked up her fork and sliced into her cake.
“It's what their age says - but most of the time I still think they're eleven and eight.” He chuckled as the waitress returned with his lunch. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome.” She turned to Kate. “Tell Adam I said hello.”
“I will.” She took a sip of coffee.
“You're married now?”
“What? No!” Kate bit at her lip. “Adam's my son.”
John looked back down at his food. “How old is he?”
“He just turned eleven last month.”
He slowly raised his gaze to meet Kate's, wondering if that Gabriel asshole knew about this. If he was an angel or something, he probably did. “Eleven?”
“Yes.” She took a sip of coffee. “No one around here knows, John. His father isn't listed on his birth certificate.”
“I - I'm not sure what I should say.” He poked at the pile of mashed potatoes on his plate, his appetite pretty much gone.
“We're fine, John. Really. I don't expect you to do anything.” She took a bite of cake and it encouraged John to take a few bites of his lunch. The meatloaf was just as good as he remembered.
“I still feel like I should do, I don't know - something.”
“Finish your lunch first.” She smiled at him over her coffee mug. “You'll probably feel better after you eat.”
**
Dean woke up to find himself alone in bed. However, unlike in the past, he woke up to find the curtains drawn back and the room full of late autumn sunshine. He tossed back the covers and walked over to the windows to look outside. He'd seen the yard from the first floor windows, but he'd figured there was some kind of unwritten rule that he wasn't supposed to open the curtains up here. Dean knew that the neighborhood was spread out and from the second floor, he saw that the houses appeared to be on acre sized lots, the house behind them had a yard that had a pool and a seriously large deck. He pulled away from the window, the need for food was starting to outweigh his curiosity about the neighborhood. Just like he had every morning, Dean came downstairs to find Gabriel working in the kitchen. If there wasn't a small gym in the house, he knew he would have gained twenty pounds in the past few weeks just from the good food the angel was feeding him. Today, however - the angel wasn't cooking, but unpacking a heavy paper bag. “Stepped out for food, huh?”
He turned and smiled. “It's for lunch, actually. How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Any reason you opened the curtains upstairs?” Dean got out a bowl and a box of cereal from the cupboard.
“It's time you got a good dose of Vitamin D. I know you hate being cooped up like this.” He sighed, “But...”
“I know, it can't be helped,” he poured himself some cereal and then got out the sliced fruit from the fridge. “I don't think I've eaten this healthy in years.”
“What, not used to having fruit for breakfast?” Gabriel set a jar of red sauce next to the stove, put another container in the fridge and then handed Dean the milk.
“Not used to having fruit, period.” He opened another cabinet and got out the honey jar. “Not to mention I don't think I've eaten this much honey since I was seven or eight.”
Gabriel folded the now empty bag and put it back in a drawer with some others. “You haven't been sick to your stomach at all, have you?”
“Not since August. I thought I had heat exhaustion for a while.” He went over to the table and sat down. “I think I picked so many tomatoes this summer it'll be a while before I want to see one that hasn't been pounded into sauce form.” He watched as Gabriel set a kettle on the stove and started to heat up some milk. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” The angel leaned against the counter, rubbing his eyes.
“You said you don't sleep - but you need to eat?”
“I can sleep - it's just not something that's easy to do. As for eating, I don't need to eat food for sustenance, but after being down here on Earth for so long, I've found that food is pretty amazing. So I eat purely for pleasure.” He smiled. “How's the cereal?”
“Pretty good.” He chewed on a berry, thinking. “I'm still not sure how all this half-human, half-angel thing works out, exactly.”
Gabriel poured some hot milk into a mug, dousing the cocoa mix he'd placed in it and came over to the table. “Like I mentioned last night, most of the characteristics are picked up from the carrier - or maternal parent.” He sat down as Dean went back to eating. “See, if I had been the carrier - not that I would have minded - I would have carried her for six months and then, she'd be born in an egg. And I'd have to take care of the egg for two weeks before it hatched.”
He stared at Gabriel, oblivious to the milk dribbling onto the table from his spoon. “You hatched from a friggin' egg?”
“I didn't. But a lot of other angels did.” He took a sip of his drink. “The first angels were made from light, just as the first humans were made from mud.”
Dean stirred his cereal before taking a few bites, wiping up the spill with a napkin. “I'm still processing all of this. So Sara's not going to be able to just smite demons with a thought, or something will she?”
“No. She has to grow up a bit first.” He chuckled. “However, she will be able to tell when a person is possessed, no matter how well the demon tries to hide. Not to mention she'll be able to recognize other supernatural beings at a glance. She'll still need to learn what's what, but in a kennel full of dogs, she'd be able to pick out the skin-walker.”
“Now there's a comforting thought. Skin-walkers disguising themselves as dogs to be adopted into people's homes and turn them into monsters.” He drained the last of the milk from the bowl and set it down. “Not that I want her within a hundred miles of a skin-walker anyway.”
“Neither do I.” He took another sip from his mug. “Would you like some?” Gabriel indicated the cocoa.
“No, I'm good for now.” He rubbed his temple, grunting. “I hate to say this, but I really need something to do. I'm not used to doing practically nothing for this long - and March is still a long way off. I mean, I can only watch so many movies and run so many miles on that treadmill before things get dull.”
Gabriel thought for a moment. “You could read - or do some research.” He rested his elbows on the table, tapping the rim of the mug with his index finger. “I'm getting a mild case of cabin fever myself, and I've been out of the house.” He frowned. “I'm sorry that I'm being overprotective of you here, but...”
“It's okay, really.” Dean rested his head on his hand, watching the angel. “What kind of research would I do? I'm not on a hunt - and I never was much of a reader.”
“That's due to the fact you never had time to read something that wasn't related to school or a case.” Gabriel stood and went to refill his mug with more hot milk after adding another heaping spoonful of cocoa mix to the bottom of the mug. “And I'm usually not this serious either. That's probably the reason I'm about ready to crack.”
“What do you usually do, since you don't normally spend time taking care of pregnant men?” Dean took his bowl over and put it in the dishwasher, getting down his own mug and dropping cocoa mix in it. “Now she's got me drinking hot chocolate.” He chuckled. “Practice for tea parties later, I guess.”
Gabriel smiled. “Something like that. And in answer to your question - I usually spend my time meting out justice.”
Dean frowned. “What kind of justice?”
The angel shrugged. “Oh, this and that. I like to bump criminals off the most wanted list. Usually it's the people who'd get some ass-hat lawyer who'd finagle the bastards out of prison.”
“Is that supposed to horrify or amuse me?”
“Depends, does a dickwad falling down a mine shaft inhabited by giant rats sound inhumane? I mean, this guy did drown his six children - and that's after he did other unspeakable things to them.”
Dean set a hand against his stomach and grimaced. “If I'm guessing that he did what you're implying - you actually might have been too nice.”
“I thought that too... that's why I also put a dozen yellow-jacket's nests at the bottom of the shaft as well.”
“And no one's noticed that he's missing?” Dean drank from his mug.
“No. The town in question is still trying to figure out where the man who was raising tigers for exotic pets went.” He smirked. “I thought it would have been obvious.”
Dean slowly lowered his mug, his expression pained. “Just to check - I am on your good side, right?”
“You have nothing to worry about in that regard.” Gabriel smiled and the two of them went back to drinking their hot chocolate.
**
John stood, calm faced over the burning corpses of the two ghouls, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The creature who had Dean had been right. He still didn't know what to make of that thing - or how he'd even go about finding it. He didn't even know what it was. But it probably knew a lot more than it had let on. The ghouls hadn't even been all that active - sticking to nearly abandoned crypts. Had the creature sent him here to kill the ghouls, or did it know about Kate and Adam? He ran a hand through his hair as he turned away from the ashy pile and headed back for his truck. He could stay in Windom a few more days, even though he'd already been here nearly a week. Kate had asked him to come over for dinner tomorrow.
Sunday dinner.
When was the last time he had one of those? One that didn't involve the well-meaning but sometimes bothersome Pastor Jim. Perhaps the good man would not seem so frustrating if he wasn't a man of God. John didn't know how anyone could believe in any kind of higher power or supreme being when there was so much shit in the world that had to be dealt with. How could there be any thing overseeing it all if parents had to bury children who died from cancer and children had to see their mothers burn on the ceiling of their nursery?
Tomorrow he'd go to Kate's house and meet his youngest child. As he opened the door of his truck, he paused to look at the gold band still on his ring finger. He was still wearing the ring Mary gave him, all these years later. He could never really bring himself to take it off - the only time he really did was when he showered and he always put it back on before he even got into boxers. He slid into the driver's seat and drove back to his motel room, still not sure about what he would do if Adam asked if he had older siblings. The safest answer was that they were off living their own lives. Not much of a lie - it's what Sam was doing. Dean was a subject best left alone, like Mary. Adam didn't need to know all of this chaotic stuff. He didn't need to know about monsters or hunting.
John didn't want him ever knowing.
*
There wasn't a white picket fence in front of the Milligan residence, just two massive oak trees that had already started to litter the grass with fallen brown leaves. There was an ancient basketball hoop and a chalk free-throw line on the drive. John stepped out of his truck, smiling to himself. He'd picked up a package of rolls from the store on his way over - despite the gulf of years since he went to Sunday dinner, he knew it was bad manners to come empty handed. It was a nice neighborhood, just like that other neighborhood, back in Kansas. He rang the bell once, trying to keep himself calm. When Kate opened the door, he felt some bit of relief. He didn't think he could handle Adam straight off.
“I was starting to think you weren't coming.” She smiled and stepped aside to let him in.
“Long line at the store.” He indicated the bag. “I - brought some rolls.”
Kate took the bag. “You didn't have to do that, John.”
He managed a weak chuckle. “Grandmother's rules; it is poor manners to be invited for a meal and to only bring one's appetite. Granted, my grandmother has been dead for nearly twenty years, but the lessons remain.”
She shook her head and led him to the kitchen. “Far be it for me to argue with a grandmother. My own most likely had a similar expression.” She got a cookie sheet out and set the rolls on it. “It was Adam's turn to choose dinner, so we're having spaghetti and meatballs.” She grinned. “And actually, since you brought bread, I won't have to worry about digging that container of bread-sticks out of the back of the freezer.”
John smiled. “Anything else I can do to help?”
Kate slid the sheet into the oven. “Would you stir that sauce in the round pan for me, please?”
“Sure.” He went over to the stove as instructed and at the same time, there were several audible thumps from upstairs. “What in the...” He looked up at the ceiling.
“Books - Adam just emptied his backpack - I hope he finds what he's looking for in there.” She shook her head and went out of the kitchen.
He was back to the nervous feeling as he heard a muffled conversation and was surprised he maintained his calm demeanor as she came back into the kitchen, a tow-haired boy following behind her. “Hello.”
The boy looked at John like he was a cross between an animal in a zoo and slug. “Hi.” He sniffled once and then went to get some dishes from a cupboard.
John couldn't blame him for the reaction. He'd missed eleven years of this kid's life - so it was only natural if the boy was pissed at him. “This smells good.”
Kate opened a package of pasta and dropped into a large pot of boiling water. “Hope it's good.”
“So Mr. Winchester....” Adam's voice broke through the silence of the room and caused both of the adults to turn towards him.
“Yes?” John kept his tone neutral.
The kid gave him an awkward smile, as if shocked by his own courage. “How about those Diamondbacks? Or you a Yankees fan?”
He slowly broke into a grin. “I'm hoping those boys from Arizona take the prize. Think the Yankees have won enough World Series. Though I don't object to the Mets winning a few more.”
*
John was packing up things in his motel room when his cell phone rang. Another unknown number. He flipped the phone open, hoping his son had come to his senses. “Hello?”
“Hi, Dad.” Dean's voice was calmer than it had been last time.
“Dean.” John stuffed a pair of socks into his duffel. “You wise up yet?”
“I don't want to hang up, Dad. I want to talk to you, but if you keep saying things like that, I will hang up.” Dean's voice suddenly sounded odd - it sounded steely.
“I beg your pardon?” John wasn't used to his eldest defying him and he straightened up, glancing at his revolver in case that thing showed up in his room. “Dean, there's no other choice to make.”
“No, there isn't. The choice you want me to make isn't the one I want to make.”
“Dean Michael Winchester, I do not like...” John gritted his teeth.
“You're the one who told me I wasn't strong enough to kill the demon dad. You said it was Sam's job.” There was pain in those words - John tightened his grip on the phone, his eyes narrowing.
“And I was right. You're not willing to do what it will take to get the job...”
“Shut up.” There could have been no power behind those words and John still would have fallen silent. Dean never spoke like this to him. It had to be the influence of that creature. “You don't know me any better than you know Sam.”
“Sam doesn't want to be a part of this family, Dean. Now you need to tell me where you are so that we can get rid of...”
“Her name is Sara, Dad and I'm not getting rid of her. You abandoned me. You walked out after Sam did. If you hadn't...”
“If I hadn't what, Dean? Let your brother go? You don't know the half of how things...”
“I know I'm the only one who had to keep their mouth shut about being pissed, Dad. You think I liked being dragged around the country any more than Sam? I only pretended not to mind so you'd not get pissed!” Dean sounded halfway between tears and anger at this point.
“Dean Michael...”
“Don't start with that! I'm not nine years old anymore!” He heard his son take a few deep breaths. “I am so sick of your orders, Dad. You trained me to be a good little soldier. You and Sam went AWOL while I was expected to hold it together and carry on as normal. You know, I could handle that, but according to your great plan to kill the demon, I'm cannon fodder - what, you planning on throwing me to the hell hounds while you exact your revenge and hope I come out in enough pieces to be sewn back together by a trip to the ER?”
“How can you say that to me?” His anger was starting to get the better of him. “How dare you say that to me!”
This time, it wasn't Dean who answered, but the other person - and his words chilled John more than an arctic wind. “You won't be hearing from Dean again. Not until I'm ready for you to talk to him.”
“Give. Me. My. Son.” John said through clenched teeth.
“Sorry, that's not an option.” The line went dead and John slammed his fist into the nearest wall - and his anger kept him from feeling the throbbing pain that shot up his arm.
***
Gabriel knew that it would take some time for both Winchesters to be ready to talk to one another. Perhaps he was putting to much faith in John Winchester, that somehow, the man would start to see things in more than black and white. Mankind had always shown a great ability to change their views on things - he'd seen it time and time again. How hard could it be for one man to stop seeing his own determination, drive and need for vengeance and realize what was really important? In the case of John Eric Winchester, it was apparently next to impossible. Of course it was impossible - he was the bloodline of his brother's vessels. Neither of them knew how to give an inch either. He knew he only had himself to blame for John's hatred of him - he hadn't exactly done anything to endear him to the man.
Well, apart from the ghouls in Windom and the Milligans. If Gabriel hadn't sent John there, mother and son would have died under the ghoul's blades seven years from now. Although with John's way of thinking, he more than likely assumed Gabriel put the ghouls there.
The angel sighed and walked silently through the house, checking things for the night. It was nearly Christmas - how had December gotten here so quickly? He could start to think of the baby's arrival in terms of weeks, rather than months. Standing at the top of the stairs, looking out of the dormer windows of the great room, he could see the faint holiday lights gracing some of the neighborhood homes.
He went down to the finished basement and, before entering the small bedroom that was down there, he took off his shoes, socks and shirt. Setting them in a neat pile by the door, he walked across the carpet and sat down on the rug in the lotus position. He took a few long, deep breaths and then he flexed his shoulders, letting his wings out from hiding. After taking another deep breath, he tilted his head toward the ceiling, closed his eyes - and slowly, the words came. The English came first, followed by a multitude of Spanish, then came French, then Icelandic. He clasped his hands over his knees and let the words float through his Grace.
Dean had felt the temperature in the house change. It was warmer, although he hadn't heard the furnace kick on. He made his way down from his room to the first floor, grimacing at the pain in his back. “Gabriel?” A soft glow was coming from the basement and he frowned - what was the angel doing down there? He made his way carefully down the slightly narrow basement stairs and stepping down to the bottom floor of the house was like walking into an August afternoon in Texas. It was so warm - warm enough that it could melt all the snow outside in an hour. Dean closed his eyes and swayed slightly on his feet, the warmth was tangible, wrapping him like a heavy blanket fresh from the dryer, he couldn't ever remember being this wonderfully warm. Leaning one hand against the wall, he kept moving forward, positive he'd find Gabriel in the middle of all this warmth. The light was also getting brighter and as he rounded the corner, Dean finally found the source of the heat - and Gabriel.
A massive set of wings were protruding from the angel's back - so big, Dean was certain they were curling around the walls of the small room the angel was in. Both light and heat were pouring off of the archangel in such profusion, it was a miracle it had not knocked him flat. A sharp jab against his side made Dean fall against the wall, his hand moving to rest on his stomach. The baby was kicking him almost in perfect sync with the waves of - whatever it was exactly - that was pouring off Gabriel. The light suddenly seemed to increase tenfold and Dean had to turn away, covering his eyes with his hands, sliding down to his knees, fear starting to overtake him.
Gabriel tilted his head slightly as his let his Grace and the prayers directed towards him wash over him, knowing that more than likely, he couldn't hide the fact that he was up to something down here and it wouldn't take long for Dean to come investigating. He was about ready to release his second set of wings when a sharp stab of Grace hit against his - confused and frightened. The motion repeated itself and the angel fell out of his trance and sprawled onto the floor, bracing himself with his hands. He shook his head once and wheeled around to see Dean huddled just outside the door, cowering in fear. “Dean.” He whispered and rose to his feet, almost stumbling over them in his haste. He took the man's face in his hands, relieved to see no tell-tale markers of damage. “Dean?”
He whimpered and didn't open his eyes, but Dean turned towards his voice, shaking slightly. “What - I'm - shouldn't have come down here...”
Gabriel pulled Dean into his arms, rubbing his back gently. “It's all right.” He rested his head against the man's, taking a few deep breaths. “I should learn to close that door.” He stroked the man's hair, aware that Dean's pulse was going back to normal.
“Eyes hurt.” Dean squinted and rubbed at his eyelids. “Stomach doesn't feel so hot either.” He let out a few breaths.
“I think you'll be fine in a little while.” Gabriel shifted them from the basement to Dean's room upstairs, laying the man down comfortably in his bed. He knew the darkness in the room would bring some relief and sure enough, Dean's eyes blinked open a few moments later. They were a little red, as if he'd been crying - but Gabriel knew it could have been much, much worse.
“By the way, before I forget to tell you - nice wings.” Dean coughed and shifted a pillow so he could rest his stomach on it.
Gabriel smiled and wrapped his arm over the man, setting his head against his. “Pity I can't show you all nine of them.”
Dean snorted. “What, the others made out of fire and lightning respectively?”
“How in the world did you know that?” He blinked in surprise.
“Educated guess.” He replied with a yawn.
*
Dean was surprised when he came down for breakfast on the morning of the twenty-fifth of December - Christmas - to find that Gabriel had been busy during the night turning the great room into a full-on magazine spread of the holiday. The scent of cinnamon and pine was heavy in the air and there was a huge stacks of gifts under the tree. He'd been so set on not celebrating today that now seeing all this, he wasn't sure if he was angry the angel had gone ahead and gone the whole hog with getting ready for the day or secretly pleased that he'd done it on the off chance there would be a need for celebration.
“Merry Christmas, Dean.” Gabriel said from behind and and Dean nearly laughed when he saw him.
“Merry Christmas - nice - uh...” He frowned. “Is that a wreath or a garland you're wearing?”
He laughed and plunked a top hat on Dean's head, grinning. “Wreath.” He gave the man a one armed hug. “What do you think?”
Dean looked back into the room and shook his head. “I don't know what to think - it's beyond impressive. But I thought we weren't going to celebrate.”
“True. But as you're going to continue to find out, I've got a bit of a habit of going all out on holidays, regardless of who I'm with.” Dean let him lead him over to the couch. “Don't worry, Christmas is usually the only one I have a tendency to go overboard on.”
He smiled in response as he felt Gabriel's lips brush against his cheek. “It's great.” He turned and set his own kiss against the angel's chin. “It's just about as close to perfect as you can get.”
The angel smiled and gave him a light hug. “I'm glad you like it.”
“Though I feel bad.” He sighed. “I don't have anything to give you for the holiday.”
Gabriel smiled in response and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. “You said you'd stay with me back in October. That is all I really need.”
Dean didn't know how to respond seriously to something like that, so he went with the first thing that came to mind. “And an orchard that grows chocolate bars, but I figure you could probably snap one of those into existence if you really wanted to.”
The angel threw back his head and laughed in reply.
*
Nearly all the gifts turned out to be things for Baby Sara. Dean had never given a second glance to clothes for babies when he passed the department in various stores, but he had to admit - the outfits Gabriel had put together that included hats were by far the most adorable. It was pretty pathetic how girlie he got over the things - from frilly socks to the menagerie of stuffed animals. There were a few things for himself as well - mostly clothes that he couldn't fit into until after the baby was born and a new pair of boots. But at the bottom of the pile was an oblong package that Gabriel insisted he open last. Gabriel had gotten himself some presents and wrapped them - boxes of chocolate bars mostly, along with a subscription to World Weekly News. Dean figured it was better not to ask.
He set down the last box he'd opened for Sara - a set of pajamas that she most likely wouldn't fit into until next year when Gabriel took the final box for Dean from under the tree and came over to him. “Now, I know you've been using all this free time you've got to brush up on your Latin and exorcisms and all other sorts of hunting things...” He handed Dean the box and sat down on the couch. “But this is something a little different from that.”
“What do you mean?'” Dean frowned at the blue wrapping paper, the bright white bow and suddenly it triggered a memory - of being three years old and finding a toy fire helmet in a package wrapped in paper just like this.
“Open it.” Gabriel was beaming.
He slid back the ribbon, adding it to the pile that the angel wanted to keep for some unknown reason and undid the paper. “Is it a book?” He pulled off the lid and slid it under the bottom of the box, folding back the tissue paper. Resting there was a glossy test book - which made him frown. “CPAT? What's that for?”
“Read the rest of the cover.” The smile on the angel's face seemed to grow brighter.
He scanned the rest of the wording, his eyes widening. “Are you honestly suggesting that I take this exam?” Tears suddenly pricked the corners of his eyes. “This is the test for firefighters.”
“What, you don't think you can pass it?” Gabriel slid an arm around his shoulders, hugging him.
“I... I'm not supposed to want that.” He swallowed, fighting back the urge to cry. “I can't want this.”
“Who says you can't?” The angel blinked in surprise. “You want to help people, you want to stay here. Do you want to go fix cars because that's the only thing you've been told you're good at besides hunting, or do you want to do something you've wanted to do all your life but were never allowed to?”
He swallowed, running his fingers down the cover, licking at the corner of his mouth. “I - I do want it. I just...”
Gabriel pressed another kiss against his cheek. “Don't think you can't pass the exam.” He hugged him. “Besides, you said you'd have to get back in shape after Sara was born, so you can get ready for the physical part of the test while you do that.”
“You really are too much sometimes, you know that?” He rubbed at his eyes, brushing his tears away, inwardly cursing his emotions getting the better of him.
“Old habit that I don't plan on ever breaking.” He chuckled. “Though I promise - I'll try not to spoil Sara too much.”
Dean grinned. “Tell you what - you do your best not to do that, and when she hits middle school and the boys show up, you get to pick if you want to be the good dad or the bad one. Regardless of which one I am, however - I get to clean my guns in front of every guy who comes to pick her up for a date.”
“I assume that's if we let her date.”
“Point taken.” He flinched as the felt said baby kick him hard. “Ow. That was my stomach!” He shook his head as he rubbed the spot. “Maybe she can date when she's my age... or older.”
Gabriel chuckled and set a hand next to Dean's. “I still like your gun cleaning idea. I've got a shovel and a backyard roughly the size of the universe.”
***
Sam knotted the last bag of trash and pulled it from the can, and headed for the dumpster. He'd spent his Christmas in one the the campus religious houses with a bunch of international students who either couldn't afford or didn't have time to get back home for the holiday. Dinner had been a combination of 'traditional' holiday foods from all the people present - Sam had made Winchester Stove Top Stuffing - which was Stove Top cooked over chicken breasts. It was Dean's recipe, but he'd seen it cooked enough times to know how to make it. It'd been the traditional meal for his family for years and he absolutely hated it when he was growing up. Now, when he'd seen it set among potato pancakes, borscht and more sugar cookies than should be allowed, he had a new found appreciation for it. Christmas was the only time Dean would ever make it and Sam couldn't believe how these kids from far-off places like Moscow, Jerusalem and Tokyo could think it was an amazing dish.
He hurled the trash bag into the dumpster and headed back for the house, his hands in his pockets. Somewhere, no doubt, Dean had made the same dish for himself and Dad as they celebrated Christmas this year, that is if Dad remembered at all. There had been plenty of times their father had completely ignored the holiday. Dean had always tried to make an effort - probably more for his brother's benefit than his own. Sam had seen plenty of disappointment in Dean's eyes time after time. Disappointment he'd never voiced.
Sam could never figure out why. As he started back to the house, he could hear one of the students had found the piano and was hammering out 'Jingle Bells' on the keys - while everyone sang the song in their native language. Half of them off key and the other half laughing too hard to get them in tune. He decided that Christmas 2001 would be marked as his favorite one - so far.
It could only get better from here, right?
*
Dean sat down the casserole dish on a hot-pad, feeling a little uncertain. “I've never had Indian food for Christmas before.”
Gabriel chuckled as he set down a serving dish of his own. “Well, it's gotten to be a bit of a habit of mine. Give me another few years and I'll probably have switched to German cuisine.”
“Seriously?” He went back and picked up the salt and pepper shakers before sitting down. “Can't say I've ever had uh... what did you call this again?”
“It's saag chicken.” He set a serving spoon in the dish before going back to the kitchen for the bread basket. “I toned it down on the spices a little, I usually make mine hot enough to merit a gallon of water per bite for regular people.”
Dean grimaced as he slid into his chair. “I think I'll pass on that.”
“I don't think I'd offer it to you,” the angel shrugged and sat down as well. “There's people in India who can't stand it that hot either. Though if I want real spice, I go for Thai.”
“Curry?” He dished himself up some rice.
“Usually.” He opened up the folded napkin of the basket and pulled out a thick piece of naan bread. “What do you think of lavender?”
“What do you mean, what do I think of lavender?” Dean put some of the spicy chicken over his rice and then waited for Gabriel to finish serving himself.
“For Sara's room. Somehow, I don't think she's going to be much of a pink girl.” He set his spoon back in the rice dish.
“Lavender huh?” Dean picked up his fork. “That might work.” He stabbed at his food for a moment. “Which room were you thinking of using?”
“The one at the end of the hall - the one nearest to yours.” Gabriel tore his bread in half.
“That's the furthest one from yours.” He poked at his food. “I mean, not that you sleep or anything... but there's a bathroom between that room and mine. That could wake her up a lot.”
“What are you suggesting?” Gabriel stabbed at a piece of chicken.
“Maybe I could move into your room and we could make my current room hers.” He didn't look up when he said it. He wasn't too sure of the reaction he'd get.
“You - move into my room?”
“If you don't want me to, I'm fine with that.” He was glad he was looking down. Gabriel sounded upset. “I just thought, that maybe...”
“No,” Gabriel reached over and set his hand on Dean's wrist. “I'm fine with it, I'm just surprised, that's all.”
He looked up, swallowing. “Why? Six nights a week out of seven you end up snuggled up with me anyway - and well, you've got the bigger bed.”
*
John stared down into his bowl of ramen noodles, wondering just how things had gotten so messed up. Sam was off at school and wouldn't talk to him. Dean was who knew where and he had no way of getting a hold of him. It was Christmas night, and here he was with a pot full of ramen and margarine slathered white bread - quite possibly the worst Christmas meal he'd ever eaten. His eyes shifted from the brown broth to the rest of the table, bare and alone. It was good that it was small - if it was big, it'd just remind him of how freakin' alone he felt right now. He hadn't even felt like turning on the television just for background noise. It wasn't as if he'd ever spent this holiday alone before, he had done so plenty of times. He'd left his boys with Bobby, with Caleb, with Jim - hell, he'd left the pair of them alone in a motel room at least twice.
He rested his head against his hand, listening to the frozen rain lash against the motel windows. He was going to get that carton of eggnog and that bottle of rum out of the fridge here shortly and drink the whole lot of it. Perhaps it wasn't the best solution to making himself feel better - liquor never had been. But at least when he was drunk, he didn't care about how he felt, who he was with, or how rotten his life seemed to be at that time. The sooner the better, was his honest opinion. A little niggling voice was starting in the back of his mind. It didn't help that the voice had a form in the corner of his mind and all John can picture is Mary standing over him, wearing that cream colored peasant blouse and the bell-bottom jeans she wore long after they went out of fashion, hands on her hips, telling him in no uncertain terms that the reason his boys weren't here was his own fault.
It really didn't help that the voice - and thus Mary - was right.
****
She's so little was the only thing Dean could really think of the day Sara was finally born. In a rather Winchester like fashion, she decided that showing up two weeks early, on the sixth of March was perfectly acceptable. She was a tiny, round little thing with a riot of hair that was all different colors of the spectrum that was soft as down. He looked at her, nestled in the crook of his arm, too overcome with an emotion he couldn't quite explain. He knew it was love, but this was a deeper, stronger love than he'd ever had around any other family members. “Hard to believe something this little could kick so hard.”
Gabriel kissed the side of Dean's face, wrapping his arms around the pair of them. “She won't stay little for very long.” He brushed a finger against his daughter's cheek. “She also won't stay scrunched up either.”
“I kind of figured that, Gabe.” He smiled. “But, she's good, right? I mean...”
“I know what you mean.” He adjusted the cap on the girl's head. “She's healthy and strong. Not to mention heartbreakingly adorable, so she's the three best things an infant can be.” He smiled and kissed the side of Dean's face. “How are you doing?”
“I'm tired.” He smiled wanly. “But it's a good tired.”
Chapter 3
Author: darth_firefly
Artist: chosenfire28
Genre/Paring: AU, Dean/Gabriel, Sam/Jess, mentions of Sam/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count:56,463
Warnings/Spoilers: Mpreg, mild language, mild violence. slight gore - spoilers - no spoilers as long as you've seen SPN up to and including Season 5.
Summary: What if everything depended on a single, simple choice? Right after Sam left for Stanford and John took off for hunts unknown, Dean met up with a man in the middle of the afternoon over lunch - and they elected to spend the rest of the day (and night) together. Should have been a simple one night stand for Dean and Gabriel - except Gabriel forgot one thing in the heat of the moment - there are times when angels can impregnate a human, regardless of their gender. When he realized the possibility - he went to find Dean. When he found him, Gabriel decided that the best thing to do for everyone is to stop the whole Apocalypse cold. Unfortunately, he didn't count on Michael having an issue with his little brother playing house with his true vessel and their half-angelic daughter, Sara.
John couldn't say he was surprised when he tried to ring back the number Dean had called him with and he was told it was disconnected. The area code for the number was one for Hawaii - he seriously doubted that was where his son was. Whatever the fuck had taken and impregnated Dean didn't want to be found. If he wasn't on outs with Bobby Singer again, he'd ask the man to look into what could pass the demon/witch test and get a man pregnant. There couldn't be that many things left that could do it that actually existed. If he asked Jim for help, he'd get that stupid angel spiel again. There were no such things as angels. If there were, they obviously didn't seem to give a shit about getting rid of demons before they attacked innocent people like his family.
With no leads on Dean, not even an idea of where to start to looking again, here he was, returning to Windom on the chance that there still might be two ghouls in town. If the creature who had Dean was sending him on a wild goose chase, he'd have one more reason to find a way to kill the freak. When he found Dean, he'd kill the bastard - there had to be a way to do it - and then, then he'd deal with the monster his son was carrying. It wouldn't be easy, judging from the conversation, Dean had gotten attached to the little beast. Hell, the spawn had probably messed with his son's mind into thinking he cared about it.
Coming back to Windom was almost like going back to Lawrence. His friend in town, Joe Barton, had said he would take care of any problems that arose after John had left town. He turned up the collar of his leather jacket as he crossed the gravel lot to walk into Cousin Oliver's diner, hoping that he could wrap this up very quickly - and then he could start looking for Dean again. He'd find a trail, someone somewhere knew something. He slid into a booth, inhaling the wonderful scent of fried onions and strong coffee.
“Welcome to Cousin Oliver's. Can I bring you something to drink?” The waitress set a menu down in front of him.
“Coffee, please.” He looked up and gave the woman a tired smile.
“Sure. Just to let you know, we are out of strawberry-rhubarb pie. We should have more tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” John watched her go to another table and turned his attention to the menu. He wondered if the meatloaf was as good as it was ten years ago. If the cook hadn't changed, it should be.
“John? John is that you?” A voice called from the counter and he looked up. A tired blond woman was looking at him as if she'd seen a ghost. He blinked in surprise when his memory caught up with him.
“Kate?”
The woman picked up her cup of coffee and sat down on the other side of John's booth, still staring at him. “I... I didn't think you'd come back to Windom.”
“Thought I'd double check things.” It was the safest answer he could think to give as the waitress came back over and set down John's coffee.
“What can I get you today?”
“Meatloaf - what's today's vegetable?”
“Green beans.” She scrawled the order down on her pad. “You want me to bring you that slice of cake over here, Kate?”
“Please.” She replied and the waitress walked off again. As soon as she was out of earshot, the woman turned back to John. “I - are there more of those... things?”
“There might be. Like I said, double checking.” John took a sip of his coffee, feeling rather weird - like he was on a first date or something. Eleven years ago, he'd spent three nights in this woman's bed. Bit awkward - and she was the reason he hoped he never ran into a Woman in White without backup.
“I see.” She looked down into her mug as the waitress set a fork and a plate containing a large slice of yellow cake on the table and then walked off again. “Um, how long are you in town for?”
“Few days, maybe a week. Joe Barton still around?”
“Yes, I've got his number in my cell, if you need it.”
“Kate, is something wrong?”
“Why would you think that?” John noted that her hand shook a little as she took a sip of coffee.
“Because you seem nervous. Is there something I should know about?”
Kate set her cup down, but didn't let go of it. Instead, she wrapped her hands around it, her gaze more on the dark liquid than anything. “You said you came to double check things. Did... did that include checking on me?”
“I thought you'd left Windom for Chicago. You told me you were going to go to med school down there.”
“Change of plans.” She took a deep breath. “You still drive that black Impala?”
“Not recently. My son drives it now.” John hoped that Dean still had the car.
“You didn't mention you had kids when I met you, John.”
“He doesn't live with me.” John rubbed his eyes. “It's a long story.”
“Always was, with you.” She laughed softly. “I uh... how many kids do you have?”
“Just two, both boys. Dean's off somewhere and Sam's in college.”
“Oh, they're all grown up then,” she picked up her fork and sliced into her cake.
“It's what their age says - but most of the time I still think they're eleven and eight.” He chuckled as the waitress returned with his lunch. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome.” She turned to Kate. “Tell Adam I said hello.”
“I will.” She took a sip of coffee.
“You're married now?”
“What? No!” Kate bit at her lip. “Adam's my son.”
John looked back down at his food. “How old is he?”
“He just turned eleven last month.”
He slowly raised his gaze to meet Kate's, wondering if that Gabriel asshole knew about this. If he was an angel or something, he probably did. “Eleven?”
“Yes.” She took a sip of coffee. “No one around here knows, John. His father isn't listed on his birth certificate.”
“I - I'm not sure what I should say.” He poked at the pile of mashed potatoes on his plate, his appetite pretty much gone.
“We're fine, John. Really. I don't expect you to do anything.” She took a bite of cake and it encouraged John to take a few bites of his lunch. The meatloaf was just as good as he remembered.
“I still feel like I should do, I don't know - something.”
“Finish your lunch first.” She smiled at him over her coffee mug. “You'll probably feel better after you eat.”
**
Dean woke up to find himself alone in bed. However, unlike in the past, he woke up to find the curtains drawn back and the room full of late autumn sunshine. He tossed back the covers and walked over to the windows to look outside. He'd seen the yard from the first floor windows, but he'd figured there was some kind of unwritten rule that he wasn't supposed to open the curtains up here. Dean knew that the neighborhood was spread out and from the second floor, he saw that the houses appeared to be on acre sized lots, the house behind them had a yard that had a pool and a seriously large deck. He pulled away from the window, the need for food was starting to outweigh his curiosity about the neighborhood. Just like he had every morning, Dean came downstairs to find Gabriel working in the kitchen. If there wasn't a small gym in the house, he knew he would have gained twenty pounds in the past few weeks just from the good food the angel was feeding him. Today, however - the angel wasn't cooking, but unpacking a heavy paper bag. “Stepped out for food, huh?”
He turned and smiled. “It's for lunch, actually. How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Any reason you opened the curtains upstairs?” Dean got out a bowl and a box of cereal from the cupboard.
“It's time you got a good dose of Vitamin D. I know you hate being cooped up like this.” He sighed, “But...”
“I know, it can't be helped,” he poured himself some cereal and then got out the sliced fruit from the fridge. “I don't think I've eaten this healthy in years.”
“What, not used to having fruit for breakfast?” Gabriel set a jar of red sauce next to the stove, put another container in the fridge and then handed Dean the milk.
“Not used to having fruit, period.” He opened another cabinet and got out the honey jar. “Not to mention I don't think I've eaten this much honey since I was seven or eight.”
Gabriel folded the now empty bag and put it back in a drawer with some others. “You haven't been sick to your stomach at all, have you?”
“Not since August. I thought I had heat exhaustion for a while.” He went over to the table and sat down. “I think I picked so many tomatoes this summer it'll be a while before I want to see one that hasn't been pounded into sauce form.” He watched as Gabriel set a kettle on the stove and started to heat up some milk. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” The angel leaned against the counter, rubbing his eyes.
“You said you don't sleep - but you need to eat?”
“I can sleep - it's just not something that's easy to do. As for eating, I don't need to eat food for sustenance, but after being down here on Earth for so long, I've found that food is pretty amazing. So I eat purely for pleasure.” He smiled. “How's the cereal?”
“Pretty good.” He chewed on a berry, thinking. “I'm still not sure how all this half-human, half-angel thing works out, exactly.”
Gabriel poured some hot milk into a mug, dousing the cocoa mix he'd placed in it and came over to the table. “Like I mentioned last night, most of the characteristics are picked up from the carrier - or maternal parent.” He sat down as Dean went back to eating. “See, if I had been the carrier - not that I would have minded - I would have carried her for six months and then, she'd be born in an egg. And I'd have to take care of the egg for two weeks before it hatched.”
He stared at Gabriel, oblivious to the milk dribbling onto the table from his spoon. “You hatched from a friggin' egg?”
“I didn't. But a lot of other angels did.” He took a sip of his drink. “The first angels were made from light, just as the first humans were made from mud.”
Dean stirred his cereal before taking a few bites, wiping up the spill with a napkin. “I'm still processing all of this. So Sara's not going to be able to just smite demons with a thought, or something will she?”
“No. She has to grow up a bit first.” He chuckled. “However, she will be able to tell when a person is possessed, no matter how well the demon tries to hide. Not to mention she'll be able to recognize other supernatural beings at a glance. She'll still need to learn what's what, but in a kennel full of dogs, she'd be able to pick out the skin-walker.”
“Now there's a comforting thought. Skin-walkers disguising themselves as dogs to be adopted into people's homes and turn them into monsters.” He drained the last of the milk from the bowl and set it down. “Not that I want her within a hundred miles of a skin-walker anyway.”
“Neither do I.” He took another sip from his mug. “Would you like some?” Gabriel indicated the cocoa.
“No, I'm good for now.” He rubbed his temple, grunting. “I hate to say this, but I really need something to do. I'm not used to doing practically nothing for this long - and March is still a long way off. I mean, I can only watch so many movies and run so many miles on that treadmill before things get dull.”
Gabriel thought for a moment. “You could read - or do some research.” He rested his elbows on the table, tapping the rim of the mug with his index finger. “I'm getting a mild case of cabin fever myself, and I've been out of the house.” He frowned. “I'm sorry that I'm being overprotective of you here, but...”
“It's okay, really.” Dean rested his head on his hand, watching the angel. “What kind of research would I do? I'm not on a hunt - and I never was much of a reader.”
“That's due to the fact you never had time to read something that wasn't related to school or a case.” Gabriel stood and went to refill his mug with more hot milk after adding another heaping spoonful of cocoa mix to the bottom of the mug. “And I'm usually not this serious either. That's probably the reason I'm about ready to crack.”
“What do you usually do, since you don't normally spend time taking care of pregnant men?” Dean took his bowl over and put it in the dishwasher, getting down his own mug and dropping cocoa mix in it. “Now she's got me drinking hot chocolate.” He chuckled. “Practice for tea parties later, I guess.”
Gabriel smiled. “Something like that. And in answer to your question - I usually spend my time meting out justice.”
Dean frowned. “What kind of justice?”
The angel shrugged. “Oh, this and that. I like to bump criminals off the most wanted list. Usually it's the people who'd get some ass-hat lawyer who'd finagle the bastards out of prison.”
“Is that supposed to horrify or amuse me?”
“Depends, does a dickwad falling down a mine shaft inhabited by giant rats sound inhumane? I mean, this guy did drown his six children - and that's after he did other unspeakable things to them.”
Dean set a hand against his stomach and grimaced. “If I'm guessing that he did what you're implying - you actually might have been too nice.”
“I thought that too... that's why I also put a dozen yellow-jacket's nests at the bottom of the shaft as well.”
“And no one's noticed that he's missing?” Dean drank from his mug.
“No. The town in question is still trying to figure out where the man who was raising tigers for exotic pets went.” He smirked. “I thought it would have been obvious.”
Dean slowly lowered his mug, his expression pained. “Just to check - I am on your good side, right?”
“You have nothing to worry about in that regard.” Gabriel smiled and the two of them went back to drinking their hot chocolate.
**
John stood, calm faced over the burning corpses of the two ghouls, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The creature who had Dean had been right. He still didn't know what to make of that thing - or how he'd even go about finding it. He didn't even know what it was. But it probably knew a lot more than it had let on. The ghouls hadn't even been all that active - sticking to nearly abandoned crypts. Had the creature sent him here to kill the ghouls, or did it know about Kate and Adam? He ran a hand through his hair as he turned away from the ashy pile and headed back for his truck. He could stay in Windom a few more days, even though he'd already been here nearly a week. Kate had asked him to come over for dinner tomorrow.
Sunday dinner.
When was the last time he had one of those? One that didn't involve the well-meaning but sometimes bothersome Pastor Jim. Perhaps the good man would not seem so frustrating if he wasn't a man of God. John didn't know how anyone could believe in any kind of higher power or supreme being when there was so much shit in the world that had to be dealt with. How could there be any thing overseeing it all if parents had to bury children who died from cancer and children had to see their mothers burn on the ceiling of their nursery?
Tomorrow he'd go to Kate's house and meet his youngest child. As he opened the door of his truck, he paused to look at the gold band still on his ring finger. He was still wearing the ring Mary gave him, all these years later. He could never really bring himself to take it off - the only time he really did was when he showered and he always put it back on before he even got into boxers. He slid into the driver's seat and drove back to his motel room, still not sure about what he would do if Adam asked if he had older siblings. The safest answer was that they were off living their own lives. Not much of a lie - it's what Sam was doing. Dean was a subject best left alone, like Mary. Adam didn't need to know all of this chaotic stuff. He didn't need to know about monsters or hunting.
John didn't want him ever knowing.
*
There wasn't a white picket fence in front of the Milligan residence, just two massive oak trees that had already started to litter the grass with fallen brown leaves. There was an ancient basketball hoop and a chalk free-throw line on the drive. John stepped out of his truck, smiling to himself. He'd picked up a package of rolls from the store on his way over - despite the gulf of years since he went to Sunday dinner, he knew it was bad manners to come empty handed. It was a nice neighborhood, just like that other neighborhood, back in Kansas. He rang the bell once, trying to keep himself calm. When Kate opened the door, he felt some bit of relief. He didn't think he could handle Adam straight off.
“I was starting to think you weren't coming.” She smiled and stepped aside to let him in.
“Long line at the store.” He indicated the bag. “I - brought some rolls.”
Kate took the bag. “You didn't have to do that, John.”
He managed a weak chuckle. “Grandmother's rules; it is poor manners to be invited for a meal and to only bring one's appetite. Granted, my grandmother has been dead for nearly twenty years, but the lessons remain.”
She shook her head and led him to the kitchen. “Far be it for me to argue with a grandmother. My own most likely had a similar expression.” She got a cookie sheet out and set the rolls on it. “It was Adam's turn to choose dinner, so we're having spaghetti and meatballs.” She grinned. “And actually, since you brought bread, I won't have to worry about digging that container of bread-sticks out of the back of the freezer.”
John smiled. “Anything else I can do to help?”
Kate slid the sheet into the oven. “Would you stir that sauce in the round pan for me, please?”
“Sure.” He went over to the stove as instructed and at the same time, there were several audible thumps from upstairs. “What in the...” He looked up at the ceiling.
“Books - Adam just emptied his backpack - I hope he finds what he's looking for in there.” She shook her head and went out of the kitchen.
He was back to the nervous feeling as he heard a muffled conversation and was surprised he maintained his calm demeanor as she came back into the kitchen, a tow-haired boy following behind her. “Hello.”
The boy looked at John like he was a cross between an animal in a zoo and slug. “Hi.” He sniffled once and then went to get some dishes from a cupboard.
John couldn't blame him for the reaction. He'd missed eleven years of this kid's life - so it was only natural if the boy was pissed at him. “This smells good.”
Kate opened a package of pasta and dropped into a large pot of boiling water. “Hope it's good.”
“So Mr. Winchester....” Adam's voice broke through the silence of the room and caused both of the adults to turn towards him.
“Yes?” John kept his tone neutral.
The kid gave him an awkward smile, as if shocked by his own courage. “How about those Diamondbacks? Or you a Yankees fan?”
He slowly broke into a grin. “I'm hoping those boys from Arizona take the prize. Think the Yankees have won enough World Series. Though I don't object to the Mets winning a few more.”
*
John was packing up things in his motel room when his cell phone rang. Another unknown number. He flipped the phone open, hoping his son had come to his senses. “Hello?”
“Hi, Dad.” Dean's voice was calmer than it had been last time.
“Dean.” John stuffed a pair of socks into his duffel. “You wise up yet?”
“I don't want to hang up, Dad. I want to talk to you, but if you keep saying things like that, I will hang up.” Dean's voice suddenly sounded odd - it sounded steely.
“I beg your pardon?” John wasn't used to his eldest defying him and he straightened up, glancing at his revolver in case that thing showed up in his room. “Dean, there's no other choice to make.”
“No, there isn't. The choice you want me to make isn't the one I want to make.”
“Dean Michael Winchester, I do not like...” John gritted his teeth.
“You're the one who told me I wasn't strong enough to kill the demon dad. You said it was Sam's job.” There was pain in those words - John tightened his grip on the phone, his eyes narrowing.
“And I was right. You're not willing to do what it will take to get the job...”
“Shut up.” There could have been no power behind those words and John still would have fallen silent. Dean never spoke like this to him. It had to be the influence of that creature. “You don't know me any better than you know Sam.”
“Sam doesn't want to be a part of this family, Dean. Now you need to tell me where you are so that we can get rid of...”
“Her name is Sara, Dad and I'm not getting rid of her. You abandoned me. You walked out after Sam did. If you hadn't...”
“If I hadn't what, Dean? Let your brother go? You don't know the half of how things...”
“I know I'm the only one who had to keep their mouth shut about being pissed, Dad. You think I liked being dragged around the country any more than Sam? I only pretended not to mind so you'd not get pissed!” Dean sounded halfway between tears and anger at this point.
“Dean Michael...”
“Don't start with that! I'm not nine years old anymore!” He heard his son take a few deep breaths. “I am so sick of your orders, Dad. You trained me to be a good little soldier. You and Sam went AWOL while I was expected to hold it together and carry on as normal. You know, I could handle that, but according to your great plan to kill the demon, I'm cannon fodder - what, you planning on throwing me to the hell hounds while you exact your revenge and hope I come out in enough pieces to be sewn back together by a trip to the ER?”
“How can you say that to me?” His anger was starting to get the better of him. “How dare you say that to me!”
This time, it wasn't Dean who answered, but the other person - and his words chilled John more than an arctic wind. “You won't be hearing from Dean again. Not until I'm ready for you to talk to him.”
“Give. Me. My. Son.” John said through clenched teeth.
“Sorry, that's not an option.” The line went dead and John slammed his fist into the nearest wall - and his anger kept him from feeling the throbbing pain that shot up his arm.
***
Gabriel knew that it would take some time for both Winchesters to be ready to talk to one another. Perhaps he was putting to much faith in John Winchester, that somehow, the man would start to see things in more than black and white. Mankind had always shown a great ability to change their views on things - he'd seen it time and time again. How hard could it be for one man to stop seeing his own determination, drive and need for vengeance and realize what was really important? In the case of John Eric Winchester, it was apparently next to impossible. Of course it was impossible - he was the bloodline of his brother's vessels. Neither of them knew how to give an inch either. He knew he only had himself to blame for John's hatred of him - he hadn't exactly done anything to endear him to the man.
Well, apart from the ghouls in Windom and the Milligans. If Gabriel hadn't sent John there, mother and son would have died under the ghoul's blades seven years from now. Although with John's way of thinking, he more than likely assumed Gabriel put the ghouls there.
The angel sighed and walked silently through the house, checking things for the night. It was nearly Christmas - how had December gotten here so quickly? He could start to think of the baby's arrival in terms of weeks, rather than months. Standing at the top of the stairs, looking out of the dormer windows of the great room, he could see the faint holiday lights gracing some of the neighborhood homes.
He went down to the finished basement and, before entering the small bedroom that was down there, he took off his shoes, socks and shirt. Setting them in a neat pile by the door, he walked across the carpet and sat down on the rug in the lotus position. He took a few long, deep breaths and then he flexed his shoulders, letting his wings out from hiding. After taking another deep breath, he tilted his head toward the ceiling, closed his eyes - and slowly, the words came. The English came first, followed by a multitude of Spanish, then came French, then Icelandic. He clasped his hands over his knees and let the words float through his Grace.
Dean had felt the temperature in the house change. It was warmer, although he hadn't heard the furnace kick on. He made his way down from his room to the first floor, grimacing at the pain in his back. “Gabriel?” A soft glow was coming from the basement and he frowned - what was the angel doing down there? He made his way carefully down the slightly narrow basement stairs and stepping down to the bottom floor of the house was like walking into an August afternoon in Texas. It was so warm - warm enough that it could melt all the snow outside in an hour. Dean closed his eyes and swayed slightly on his feet, the warmth was tangible, wrapping him like a heavy blanket fresh from the dryer, he couldn't ever remember being this wonderfully warm. Leaning one hand against the wall, he kept moving forward, positive he'd find Gabriel in the middle of all this warmth. The light was also getting brighter and as he rounded the corner, Dean finally found the source of the heat - and Gabriel.
A massive set of wings were protruding from the angel's back - so big, Dean was certain they were curling around the walls of the small room the angel was in. Both light and heat were pouring off of the archangel in such profusion, it was a miracle it had not knocked him flat. A sharp jab against his side made Dean fall against the wall, his hand moving to rest on his stomach. The baby was kicking him almost in perfect sync with the waves of - whatever it was exactly - that was pouring off Gabriel. The light suddenly seemed to increase tenfold and Dean had to turn away, covering his eyes with his hands, sliding down to his knees, fear starting to overtake him.
Gabriel tilted his head slightly as his let his Grace and the prayers directed towards him wash over him, knowing that more than likely, he couldn't hide the fact that he was up to something down here and it wouldn't take long for Dean to come investigating. He was about ready to release his second set of wings when a sharp stab of Grace hit against his - confused and frightened. The motion repeated itself and the angel fell out of his trance and sprawled onto the floor, bracing himself with his hands. He shook his head once and wheeled around to see Dean huddled just outside the door, cowering in fear. “Dean.” He whispered and rose to his feet, almost stumbling over them in his haste. He took the man's face in his hands, relieved to see no tell-tale markers of damage. “Dean?”
He whimpered and didn't open his eyes, but Dean turned towards his voice, shaking slightly. “What - I'm - shouldn't have come down here...”
Gabriel pulled Dean into his arms, rubbing his back gently. “It's all right.” He rested his head against the man's, taking a few deep breaths. “I should learn to close that door.” He stroked the man's hair, aware that Dean's pulse was going back to normal.
“Eyes hurt.” Dean squinted and rubbed at his eyelids. “Stomach doesn't feel so hot either.” He let out a few breaths.
“I think you'll be fine in a little while.” Gabriel shifted them from the basement to Dean's room upstairs, laying the man down comfortably in his bed. He knew the darkness in the room would bring some relief and sure enough, Dean's eyes blinked open a few moments later. They were a little red, as if he'd been crying - but Gabriel knew it could have been much, much worse.
“By the way, before I forget to tell you - nice wings.” Dean coughed and shifted a pillow so he could rest his stomach on it.
Gabriel smiled and wrapped his arm over the man, setting his head against his. “Pity I can't show you all nine of them.”
Dean snorted. “What, the others made out of fire and lightning respectively?”
“How in the world did you know that?” He blinked in surprise.
“Educated guess.” He replied with a yawn.
*
Dean was surprised when he came down for breakfast on the morning of the twenty-fifth of December - Christmas - to find that Gabriel had been busy during the night turning the great room into a full-on magazine spread of the holiday. The scent of cinnamon and pine was heavy in the air and there was a huge stacks of gifts under the tree. He'd been so set on not celebrating today that now seeing all this, he wasn't sure if he was angry the angel had gone ahead and gone the whole hog with getting ready for the day or secretly pleased that he'd done it on the off chance there would be a need for celebration.
“Merry Christmas, Dean.” Gabriel said from behind and and Dean nearly laughed when he saw him.
“Merry Christmas - nice - uh...” He frowned. “Is that a wreath or a garland you're wearing?”
He laughed and plunked a top hat on Dean's head, grinning. “Wreath.” He gave the man a one armed hug. “What do you think?”
Dean looked back into the room and shook his head. “I don't know what to think - it's beyond impressive. But I thought we weren't going to celebrate.”
“True. But as you're going to continue to find out, I've got a bit of a habit of going all out on holidays, regardless of who I'm with.” Dean let him lead him over to the couch. “Don't worry, Christmas is usually the only one I have a tendency to go overboard on.”
He smiled in response as he felt Gabriel's lips brush against his cheek. “It's great.” He turned and set his own kiss against the angel's chin. “It's just about as close to perfect as you can get.”
The angel smiled and gave him a light hug. “I'm glad you like it.”
“Though I feel bad.” He sighed. “I don't have anything to give you for the holiday.”
Gabriel smiled in response and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. “You said you'd stay with me back in October. That is all I really need.”
Dean didn't know how to respond seriously to something like that, so he went with the first thing that came to mind. “And an orchard that grows chocolate bars, but I figure you could probably snap one of those into existence if you really wanted to.”
The angel threw back his head and laughed in reply.
*
Nearly all the gifts turned out to be things for Baby Sara. Dean had never given a second glance to clothes for babies when he passed the department in various stores, but he had to admit - the outfits Gabriel had put together that included hats were by far the most adorable. It was pretty pathetic how girlie he got over the things - from frilly socks to the menagerie of stuffed animals. There were a few things for himself as well - mostly clothes that he couldn't fit into until after the baby was born and a new pair of boots. But at the bottom of the pile was an oblong package that Gabriel insisted he open last. Gabriel had gotten himself some presents and wrapped them - boxes of chocolate bars mostly, along with a subscription to World Weekly News. Dean figured it was better not to ask.
He set down the last box he'd opened for Sara - a set of pajamas that she most likely wouldn't fit into until next year when Gabriel took the final box for Dean from under the tree and came over to him. “Now, I know you've been using all this free time you've got to brush up on your Latin and exorcisms and all other sorts of hunting things...” He handed Dean the box and sat down on the couch. “But this is something a little different from that.”
“What do you mean?'” Dean frowned at the blue wrapping paper, the bright white bow and suddenly it triggered a memory - of being three years old and finding a toy fire helmet in a package wrapped in paper just like this.
“Open it.” Gabriel was beaming.
He slid back the ribbon, adding it to the pile that the angel wanted to keep for some unknown reason and undid the paper. “Is it a book?” He pulled off the lid and slid it under the bottom of the box, folding back the tissue paper. Resting there was a glossy test book - which made him frown. “CPAT? What's that for?”
“Read the rest of the cover.” The smile on the angel's face seemed to grow brighter.
He scanned the rest of the wording, his eyes widening. “Are you honestly suggesting that I take this exam?” Tears suddenly pricked the corners of his eyes. “This is the test for firefighters.”
“What, you don't think you can pass it?” Gabriel slid an arm around his shoulders, hugging him.
“I... I'm not supposed to want that.” He swallowed, fighting back the urge to cry. “I can't want this.”
“Who says you can't?” The angel blinked in surprise. “You want to help people, you want to stay here. Do you want to go fix cars because that's the only thing you've been told you're good at besides hunting, or do you want to do something you've wanted to do all your life but were never allowed to?”
He swallowed, running his fingers down the cover, licking at the corner of his mouth. “I - I do want it. I just...”
Gabriel pressed another kiss against his cheek. “Don't think you can't pass the exam.” He hugged him. “Besides, you said you'd have to get back in shape after Sara was born, so you can get ready for the physical part of the test while you do that.”
“You really are too much sometimes, you know that?” He rubbed at his eyes, brushing his tears away, inwardly cursing his emotions getting the better of him.
“Old habit that I don't plan on ever breaking.” He chuckled. “Though I promise - I'll try not to spoil Sara too much.”
Dean grinned. “Tell you what - you do your best not to do that, and when she hits middle school and the boys show up, you get to pick if you want to be the good dad or the bad one. Regardless of which one I am, however - I get to clean my guns in front of every guy who comes to pick her up for a date.”
“I assume that's if we let her date.”
“Point taken.” He flinched as the felt said baby kick him hard. “Ow. That was my stomach!” He shook his head as he rubbed the spot. “Maybe she can date when she's my age... or older.”
Gabriel chuckled and set a hand next to Dean's. “I still like your gun cleaning idea. I've got a shovel and a backyard roughly the size of the universe.”
***
Sam knotted the last bag of trash and pulled it from the can, and headed for the dumpster. He'd spent his Christmas in one the the campus religious houses with a bunch of international students who either couldn't afford or didn't have time to get back home for the holiday. Dinner had been a combination of 'traditional' holiday foods from all the people present - Sam had made Winchester Stove Top Stuffing - which was Stove Top cooked over chicken breasts. It was Dean's recipe, but he'd seen it cooked enough times to know how to make it. It'd been the traditional meal for his family for years and he absolutely hated it when he was growing up. Now, when he'd seen it set among potato pancakes, borscht and more sugar cookies than should be allowed, he had a new found appreciation for it. Christmas was the only time Dean would ever make it and Sam couldn't believe how these kids from far-off places like Moscow, Jerusalem and Tokyo could think it was an amazing dish.
He hurled the trash bag into the dumpster and headed back for the house, his hands in his pockets. Somewhere, no doubt, Dean had made the same dish for himself and Dad as they celebrated Christmas this year, that is if Dad remembered at all. There had been plenty of times their father had completely ignored the holiday. Dean had always tried to make an effort - probably more for his brother's benefit than his own. Sam had seen plenty of disappointment in Dean's eyes time after time. Disappointment he'd never voiced.
Sam could never figure out why. As he started back to the house, he could hear one of the students had found the piano and was hammering out 'Jingle Bells' on the keys - while everyone sang the song in their native language. Half of them off key and the other half laughing too hard to get them in tune. He decided that Christmas 2001 would be marked as his favorite one - so far.
It could only get better from here, right?
*
Dean sat down the casserole dish on a hot-pad, feeling a little uncertain. “I've never had Indian food for Christmas before.”
Gabriel chuckled as he set down a serving dish of his own. “Well, it's gotten to be a bit of a habit of mine. Give me another few years and I'll probably have switched to German cuisine.”
“Seriously?” He went back and picked up the salt and pepper shakers before sitting down. “Can't say I've ever had uh... what did you call this again?”
“It's saag chicken.” He set a serving spoon in the dish before going back to the kitchen for the bread basket. “I toned it down on the spices a little, I usually make mine hot enough to merit a gallon of water per bite for regular people.”
Dean grimaced as he slid into his chair. “I think I'll pass on that.”
“I don't think I'd offer it to you,” the angel shrugged and sat down as well. “There's people in India who can't stand it that hot either. Though if I want real spice, I go for Thai.”
“Curry?” He dished himself up some rice.
“Usually.” He opened up the folded napkin of the basket and pulled out a thick piece of naan bread. “What do you think of lavender?”
“What do you mean, what do I think of lavender?” Dean put some of the spicy chicken over his rice and then waited for Gabriel to finish serving himself.
“For Sara's room. Somehow, I don't think she's going to be much of a pink girl.” He set his spoon back in the rice dish.
“Lavender huh?” Dean picked up his fork. “That might work.” He stabbed at his food for a moment. “Which room were you thinking of using?”
“The one at the end of the hall - the one nearest to yours.” Gabriel tore his bread in half.
“That's the furthest one from yours.” He poked at his food. “I mean, not that you sleep or anything... but there's a bathroom between that room and mine. That could wake her up a lot.”
“What are you suggesting?” Gabriel stabbed at a piece of chicken.
“Maybe I could move into your room and we could make my current room hers.” He didn't look up when he said it. He wasn't too sure of the reaction he'd get.
“You - move into my room?”
“If you don't want me to, I'm fine with that.” He was glad he was looking down. Gabriel sounded upset. “I just thought, that maybe...”
“No,” Gabriel reached over and set his hand on Dean's wrist. “I'm fine with it, I'm just surprised, that's all.”
He looked up, swallowing. “Why? Six nights a week out of seven you end up snuggled up with me anyway - and well, you've got the bigger bed.”
*
John stared down into his bowl of ramen noodles, wondering just how things had gotten so messed up. Sam was off at school and wouldn't talk to him. Dean was who knew where and he had no way of getting a hold of him. It was Christmas night, and here he was with a pot full of ramen and margarine slathered white bread - quite possibly the worst Christmas meal he'd ever eaten. His eyes shifted from the brown broth to the rest of the table, bare and alone. It was good that it was small - if it was big, it'd just remind him of how freakin' alone he felt right now. He hadn't even felt like turning on the television just for background noise. It wasn't as if he'd ever spent this holiday alone before, he had done so plenty of times. He'd left his boys with Bobby, with Caleb, with Jim - hell, he'd left the pair of them alone in a motel room at least twice.
He rested his head against his hand, listening to the frozen rain lash against the motel windows. He was going to get that carton of eggnog and that bottle of rum out of the fridge here shortly and drink the whole lot of it. Perhaps it wasn't the best solution to making himself feel better - liquor never had been. But at least when he was drunk, he didn't care about how he felt, who he was with, or how rotten his life seemed to be at that time. The sooner the better, was his honest opinion. A little niggling voice was starting in the back of his mind. It didn't help that the voice had a form in the corner of his mind and all John can picture is Mary standing over him, wearing that cream colored peasant blouse and the bell-bottom jeans she wore long after they went out of fashion, hands on her hips, telling him in no uncertain terms that the reason his boys weren't here was his own fault.
It really didn't help that the voice - and thus Mary - was right.
****
She's so little was the only thing Dean could really think of the day Sara was finally born. In a rather Winchester like fashion, she decided that showing up two weeks early, on the sixth of March was perfectly acceptable. She was a tiny, round little thing with a riot of hair that was all different colors of the spectrum that was soft as down. He looked at her, nestled in the crook of his arm, too overcome with an emotion he couldn't quite explain. He knew it was love, but this was a deeper, stronger love than he'd ever had around any other family members. “Hard to believe something this little could kick so hard.”
Gabriel kissed the side of Dean's face, wrapping his arms around the pair of them. “She won't stay little for very long.” He brushed a finger against his daughter's cheek. “She also won't stay scrunched up either.”
“I kind of figured that, Gabe.” He smiled. “But, she's good, right? I mean...”
“I know what you mean.” He adjusted the cap on the girl's head. “She's healthy and strong. Not to mention heartbreakingly adorable, so she's the three best things an infant can be.” He smiled and kissed the side of Dean's face. “How are you doing?”
“I'm tired.” He smiled wanly. “But it's a good tired.”
Chapter 3