New SPN fic - babyverse
I have no idea what this will wind up being, gen or wincest. This part is indeed gen, so we'll see from there.
True story: I started writing this in the beginning of September but then forgot about it. The only person I showed it to at the time was keepaofthecheez.
Today I was crabby and decided I needed some babyfic, and when I went to look for it I couldnt find it, because the file I sent her was titled baby.doc, and when she sent it back to me back in Sept, she changed it to ASSBABY.doc.
Just to be clear: there are NO ASSBABIES in the babyverse.
Also? My friends are ALL HORS.
Uhm. Anyway! Thanks to the horface for the awesome, if slightly drugged up beta. This is for monkiedude who is having A Day, and esorlehcar who is always a very firm supporter of The Schmoop.
2300 words of the setup in this part. Shirtless, singing Dean in the next part. Thanks to bathsweaver for the holy water idea *g*
"Are you sure we're going the right way, Sam?"
Dean's voice was muffled and coming from a few feet behind Sam and to the left. Sam stood in one spot and waited for Dean to catch up, dried leaves cracking under his boots.
The air was sharp and cold; the sun just starting to set. Sam could see the sky glow hot pink and gold through the branches of the trees around them. He shivered in his jacket. The sleeves fell down past his hands, and Sam palmed his gun more carefully. His fingers were getting numb and the last thing he wanted was to shoot his own foot off by accident. Dean would never let him hear the end of it.
"Sam. I said-"
"I heard you." Sam turned when Dean walked up to stand next to him. The tops of Dean's cheeks and the tips of his ears were pink. They had ten, maybe fifteen minutes before they lost all the light, and they had to find what they were looking for before then. Sam wasn't sure how he knew that, he just did.
Sam shook his head. "And we are," he told Dean, taking a slow step forward. "This is the right way." The set of trees in front of them were starting to look a little more familiar. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember the dream.
He and Dean had been walking in it, just like they were now. Things swam into and out of focus all the time when Sam had his dreams, visions, whatever you wanted to call them - but Sam remembered everything about this particular dream.
He remembered the sign just to the side of the road where he made Dean pull the car off the road a few hours earlier. Remembered the path, the way the sun was shining. Everything was just as it should be, except-
He opened his eyes and looked around. There. Off to the right and-
"Sam, where the hell are you-- Sam!"
"This way," Sam called back. It was just up ahead, only a few more feet. He recognized all of it now; the pattern of rocks and branches on the ground, the markings on the tree on the left side of the path, the initials JS and TW carved into the bark who knew how many years ago. They were almost there, and Sam tightened his hand on the gun as he felt Dean's hand close over his shoulder.
"Sam. Sam."
Sam whipped around and glared. "What?"
"Whoa, nothing." Dean held his hands palms up, his own pistol pointing toward the darkening sky. "But hang on a minute. You said it yourself; you don't even remember what we're looking for out here. It was - what did you call it? - a blurry shape of something by the base of a tree? We don't even know what the hell this thing is."
"It's nothing dangerous," Sam told him. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did. Even if he hadn't seen the face of whatever it was they were looking for, he knew it wasn't anything that was going to hurt them. "It's not evil, Dean, whatever it is. Trust me."
Dean watched him quietly, and then rolled his eyes and looked off to the side. "Yeah. All right, Sammy. Let's just go find this thing."
They were close already. Sam knew the pattern of trees ahead. "I think it's coming up over here," he said quietly. Dean fell into step beside him, both walking with their guns drawn, taking careful and measured steps.
This was finally it. Sam looked at Dean who nodded toward the tree and jerked his thumb to the left. Sam took his spot creeping around the right. He could hear something breathing on the other side. Leaves were rustling, there was a weird gurgling sound coming from down by the dirt.
Dean was a step ahead, and when Sam heard Dean's sharp intake of breath - the way he said, "Holy shit, Sammy," - Sam whipped around the tree, gun drawn, both arms steady in front of him. He was ready. All he needed to do was take aim and he could blow whatever it was to hell and back.
When Dean reached over and slapped Sam's arm out of the way, Sam nearly fell back onto his ass. "Dean! What the fuck-"
"Jesus, Sam! Watch where you're pointing that thing!" Dean sounded more pissed than Sam had heard him in a hell of a long time. He shook his head and stuffed the gun in the back of his jeans. Whatever was on the ground wasn't a threat if the way Dean was crouched down in front of it was any indication. Sam tried to step closer, see around Dean's shoulders, and when his brother finally stood up and turned to face him, Sam couldn't have possibly been more surprised.
Sam blinked and stared. "That's…"
Dean glared and shifted the bundle of cooing blankets in his arms. "If you say 'that's a baby' I'm gonna kick your ass, Sammy."
Sam blinked again.
Because it was. It was a fucking baby, and Jesus Christ, what the hell had his visions gotten them into this time?
*
The road zipped by outside the Impala's windows. They were only a few miles from the motel, but Sam felt like they'd been in the car for hours. This whole night was crazy. Sam had no idea what he was supposed to do about all this.
Dean had the radio turned down low in honor of their new addition in the car. Led Zeppelin sang about the levee breaking, and Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face. The baby laughed and kicked a fat foot against Sam's thigh.
"It's a baby," Sam said. The baby kicked its foot again and gurgled. Dean smacked Sam on the side of the head.
"That's the only thing you've said since we found him," Dean said flatly. "Your voice box broken or something?"
Sam turned his head and glared. Dean grinned at him - a wide one, full of bright, white teeth - and said, "What? I'm just saying that you sitting there saying 'it's a baby' over and over again is getting a little Rainman."
The baby laughed again. Sam looked back at him just in time to see Dean reach over and tickle the baby under the chin. "Kid's got a good sense of humor," Dean murmured.
"Dean, oh my god. It's a baby." Sam was starting to panic. His visions never said anything about child care. "What the hell are we supposed to do with a goddamn baby? We shouldn't have even taken it. Obviously someone left it there. Maybe they were coming back or something. Maybe-"
"Now you're just being an idiot." Dean snapped. He yanked the car to the side of the road and snapped the radio off. "Listen to me, Sam. Your visions have gotten us into some fucked up shit before, but they're never wrong. You know that. So if your dream was telling you to go to that set of woods, today, to find this baby, then that's what we were supposed to do."
Sam took a deep breath. Dean was right. His visions were weird sometimes, but they were never hurtful, or wrong, or something they were supposed to ignore. He had them for a reason, and even if Sam couldn't figure out what the reason was now, this was what they were supposed to find. He bounced the baby on his leg a little, and felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a smile when the baby reached out and grabbed onto the bottom of Sam's jacket.
"Right," Sam told Dean with a sigh. "You're right. I just-" He looked over and found Dean watching the baby and smiling again. God. He forgot how much of a sap his brother was sometimes. "Fine. We'll take it back to the hotel and try and figure this out."
"Him," Dean corrected.
Sam looked at the baby who had no hair, no teeth and a pair of big, blue eyes. It was dressed in powder blue pyjamas, and a pair of slippers with stuffed pumpkins on the feet.
"Fine." Sam bounced the baby again. "Him." Dean started the car, and when the engine rumbled to life the baby hiccupped, turned green, and spit up all over Sam's jeans.
Dean's laugh was sharp and loud as they pulled away from the curb. "That's my boy," he said.
*
"We don't have any stuff for a baby," Sam said as Dean unlocked the motel room door. Dean slanted him a look that said, obviously, genius, and rolled his eyes.
"I know, Sam. Can we maybe get inside first and then figure this out?"
Sam shrugged. The baby was clinging to the front of his shirt like a monkey and Sam wanted to just put it down for a few minutes and figure out what the hell was going on. He almost tripped over a pair of Dean's jeans on the floor when the baby reached up and patted the side of Sam's face.
"Here. Take him." Sam shoved the baby at Dean and shook his arms out. He hated the way Dean was able to instantly shift the baby onto his hip and continue walking around the room, straightening things up and talking in a soft, quiet voice. Sam couldn't tell for sure, but it sounded like Dean was telling the baby how to shoot a demon with rock-salt. His brother was such a showoff.
When the baby leaned its head back and Dean immediately shot out a hand to catch him, Sam had had enough.
"Can you please put him down so we can talk about this?"
Dean huffed and jiggled the baby on his hip. "Fine."
The beds had been made-up since they'd left in the morning, and Sam couldn't keep himself from quietly laughing at the way Dean rearranged the blankets to the baby wasn't lying on top of the old, rough comforter. The baby curled his fingers around one of Dean's and Dean played with him for a minute, pulling his hand back just far enough for the baby to never lose his grip.
Sam ignored him and pulled the holy water out of their pack.
"Sam, what the hell are you-"
When the water hit the baby's forehead, Sam was waiting, holding his breath. There were other way's of checking to see if this was any kind of demonic presence, but holy water was the quickest and surest way for now. Sam wasn't sure if he was more happy or annoyed when the water did nothing but roll down the side of the baby's face and into his eyes, making him wail and cry.
Dean slapped Sam on the back of the head and scooped the baby off the bed. "You're an idiot," Dean told him. "No, not you," he said, smoothing his hand over the baby's head. "You are the best little slugger there is. Your Uncle Sammy, on the other hand, is an idiot."
Sam huffed. That didn't work. "All right. Fine. It's not a demon."
"No shit, assface." Dean glared at him.
Sam was going to try and reason with his brother. It wasn't always easy, but-- "Dean. We can't keep it. You know that, right?"
Dean sighed. Sam hated the sound - he'd heard it over and over again through his life, whenever one of them wanted something they couldn't have. "I know, Sam, but I'm not dumping him back in the middle of the woods either." Sam hated to admit it, but Dean had a point. "We'll keep him for the night. Nothing's open now anyway, and when we get up tomorrow we'll check out the town and see if anyone's reported a baby gone missing. Ok?"
"Fine. But I'm not getting up when he cries later, you are." Not that Sam would admit it out loud, but Dean was better with kids anyway. The way the baby had just fallen asleep on his shoulder was proof right there.
"Great. Perfect. Now get out of the way so I can change him."
Sam stepped back and held his hands in the air. Dean had laid the baby back on the bed, and was singing Master of Puppets quietly under his breath, as he moved thick fingers over the tiny buttons of the baby's blue jumper.
"You get me a clean undershirt or something, Sam?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded and grabbed his bag from the floor. He rummaged around until he found a clean shirt and realized that yeah, okay, it made sense Dean would be good with the kid. He practically raised Sam, so he was probably really normal around little kids and babies.
He was handing Dean the t-shirt and stopped, mid-way, as Dean unfastened the diaper and pulled it off.
"Uh, Dean?" Sam asked. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "You do realize that's a-"
"It's a girl, Sam." Dean had yanked his hands away and stepped back like the baby was made of dynamite.
Sam laughed quietly as she kicked and cooed at him from the bed. "Yep. She really is."
From the corner of his eye, Sam could see Dean rub a hand over his face. He was still covering his mouth when he turned his head toward Sam and said, "What the hell are we gonna do with a girl?"
True story: I started writing this in the beginning of September but then forgot about it. The only person I showed it to at the time was keepaofthecheez.
Today I was crabby and decided I needed some babyfic, and when I went to look for it I couldnt find it, because the file I sent her was titled baby.doc, and when she sent it back to me back in Sept, she changed it to ASSBABY.doc.
Just to be clear: there are NO ASSBABIES in the babyverse.
Also? My friends are ALL HORS.
Uhm. Anyway! Thanks to the horface for the awesome, if slightly drugged up beta. This is for monkiedude who is having A Day, and esorlehcar who is always a very firm supporter of The Schmoop.
2300 words of the setup in this part. Shirtless, singing Dean in the next part. Thanks to bathsweaver for the holy water idea *g*
"Are you sure we're going the right way, Sam?"
Dean's voice was muffled and coming from a few feet behind Sam and to the left. Sam stood in one spot and waited for Dean to catch up, dried leaves cracking under his boots.
The air was sharp and cold; the sun just starting to set. Sam could see the sky glow hot pink and gold through the branches of the trees around them. He shivered in his jacket. The sleeves fell down past his hands, and Sam palmed his gun more carefully. His fingers were getting numb and the last thing he wanted was to shoot his own foot off by accident. Dean would never let him hear the end of it.
"Sam. I said-"
"I heard you." Sam turned when Dean walked up to stand next to him. The tops of Dean's cheeks and the tips of his ears were pink. They had ten, maybe fifteen minutes before they lost all the light, and they had to find what they were looking for before then. Sam wasn't sure how he knew that, he just did.
Sam shook his head. "And we are," he told Dean, taking a slow step forward. "This is the right way." The set of trees in front of them were starting to look a little more familiar. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember the dream.
He and Dean had been walking in it, just like they were now. Things swam into and out of focus all the time when Sam had his dreams, visions, whatever you wanted to call them - but Sam remembered everything about this particular dream.
He remembered the sign just to the side of the road where he made Dean pull the car off the road a few hours earlier. Remembered the path, the way the sun was shining. Everything was just as it should be, except-
He opened his eyes and looked around. There. Off to the right and-
"Sam, where the hell are you-- Sam!"
"This way," Sam called back. It was just up ahead, only a few more feet. He recognized all of it now; the pattern of rocks and branches on the ground, the markings on the tree on the left side of the path, the initials JS and TW carved into the bark who knew how many years ago. They were almost there, and Sam tightened his hand on the gun as he felt Dean's hand close over his shoulder.
"Sam. Sam."
Sam whipped around and glared. "What?"
"Whoa, nothing." Dean held his hands palms up, his own pistol pointing toward the darkening sky. "But hang on a minute. You said it yourself; you don't even remember what we're looking for out here. It was - what did you call it? - a blurry shape of something by the base of a tree? We don't even know what the hell this thing is."
"It's nothing dangerous," Sam told him. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did. Even if he hadn't seen the face of whatever it was they were looking for, he knew it wasn't anything that was going to hurt them. "It's not evil, Dean, whatever it is. Trust me."
Dean watched him quietly, and then rolled his eyes and looked off to the side. "Yeah. All right, Sammy. Let's just go find this thing."
They were close already. Sam knew the pattern of trees ahead. "I think it's coming up over here," he said quietly. Dean fell into step beside him, both walking with their guns drawn, taking careful and measured steps.
This was finally it. Sam looked at Dean who nodded toward the tree and jerked his thumb to the left. Sam took his spot creeping around the right. He could hear something breathing on the other side. Leaves were rustling, there was a weird gurgling sound coming from down by the dirt.
Dean was a step ahead, and when Sam heard Dean's sharp intake of breath - the way he said, "Holy shit, Sammy," - Sam whipped around the tree, gun drawn, both arms steady in front of him. He was ready. All he needed to do was take aim and he could blow whatever it was to hell and back.
When Dean reached over and slapped Sam's arm out of the way, Sam nearly fell back onto his ass. "Dean! What the fuck-"
"Jesus, Sam! Watch where you're pointing that thing!" Dean sounded more pissed than Sam had heard him in a hell of a long time. He shook his head and stuffed the gun in the back of his jeans. Whatever was on the ground wasn't a threat if the way Dean was crouched down in front of it was any indication. Sam tried to step closer, see around Dean's shoulders, and when his brother finally stood up and turned to face him, Sam couldn't have possibly been more surprised.
Sam blinked and stared. "That's…"
Dean glared and shifted the bundle of cooing blankets in his arms. "If you say 'that's a baby' I'm gonna kick your ass, Sammy."
Sam blinked again.
Because it was. It was a fucking baby, and Jesus Christ, what the hell had his visions gotten them into this time?
*
The road zipped by outside the Impala's windows. They were only a few miles from the motel, but Sam felt like they'd been in the car for hours. This whole night was crazy. Sam had no idea what he was supposed to do about all this.
Dean had the radio turned down low in honor of their new addition in the car. Led Zeppelin sang about the levee breaking, and Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face. The baby laughed and kicked a fat foot against Sam's thigh.
"It's a baby," Sam said. The baby kicked its foot again and gurgled. Dean smacked Sam on the side of the head.
"That's the only thing you've said since we found him," Dean said flatly. "Your voice box broken or something?"
Sam turned his head and glared. Dean grinned at him - a wide one, full of bright, white teeth - and said, "What? I'm just saying that you sitting there saying 'it's a baby' over and over again is getting a little Rainman."
The baby laughed again. Sam looked back at him just in time to see Dean reach over and tickle the baby under the chin. "Kid's got a good sense of humor," Dean murmured.
"Dean, oh my god. It's a baby." Sam was starting to panic. His visions never said anything about child care. "What the hell are we supposed to do with a goddamn baby? We shouldn't have even taken it. Obviously someone left it there. Maybe they were coming back or something. Maybe-"
"Now you're just being an idiot." Dean snapped. He yanked the car to the side of the road and snapped the radio off. "Listen to me, Sam. Your visions have gotten us into some fucked up shit before, but they're never wrong. You know that. So if your dream was telling you to go to that set of woods, today, to find this baby, then that's what we were supposed to do."
Sam took a deep breath. Dean was right. His visions were weird sometimes, but they were never hurtful, or wrong, or something they were supposed to ignore. He had them for a reason, and even if Sam couldn't figure out what the reason was now, this was what they were supposed to find. He bounced the baby on his leg a little, and felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a smile when the baby reached out and grabbed onto the bottom of Sam's jacket.
"Right," Sam told Dean with a sigh. "You're right. I just-" He looked over and found Dean watching the baby and smiling again. God. He forgot how much of a sap his brother was sometimes. "Fine. We'll take it back to the hotel and try and figure this out."
"Him," Dean corrected.
Sam looked at the baby who had no hair, no teeth and a pair of big, blue eyes. It was dressed in powder blue pyjamas, and a pair of slippers with stuffed pumpkins on the feet.
"Fine." Sam bounced the baby again. "Him." Dean started the car, and when the engine rumbled to life the baby hiccupped, turned green, and spit up all over Sam's jeans.
Dean's laugh was sharp and loud as they pulled away from the curb. "That's my boy," he said.
*
"We don't have any stuff for a baby," Sam said as Dean unlocked the motel room door. Dean slanted him a look that said, obviously, genius, and rolled his eyes.
"I know, Sam. Can we maybe get inside first and then figure this out?"
Sam shrugged. The baby was clinging to the front of his shirt like a monkey and Sam wanted to just put it down for a few minutes and figure out what the hell was going on. He almost tripped over a pair of Dean's jeans on the floor when the baby reached up and patted the side of Sam's face.
"Here. Take him." Sam shoved the baby at Dean and shook his arms out. He hated the way Dean was able to instantly shift the baby onto his hip and continue walking around the room, straightening things up and talking in a soft, quiet voice. Sam couldn't tell for sure, but it sounded like Dean was telling the baby how to shoot a demon with rock-salt. His brother was such a showoff.
When the baby leaned its head back and Dean immediately shot out a hand to catch him, Sam had had enough.
"Can you please put him down so we can talk about this?"
Dean huffed and jiggled the baby on his hip. "Fine."
The beds had been made-up since they'd left in the morning, and Sam couldn't keep himself from quietly laughing at the way Dean rearranged the blankets to the baby wasn't lying on top of the old, rough comforter. The baby curled his fingers around one of Dean's and Dean played with him for a minute, pulling his hand back just far enough for the baby to never lose his grip.
Sam ignored him and pulled the holy water out of their pack.
"Sam, what the hell are you-"
When the water hit the baby's forehead, Sam was waiting, holding his breath. There were other way's of checking to see if this was any kind of demonic presence, but holy water was the quickest and surest way for now. Sam wasn't sure if he was more happy or annoyed when the water did nothing but roll down the side of the baby's face and into his eyes, making him wail and cry.
Dean slapped Sam on the back of the head and scooped the baby off the bed. "You're an idiot," Dean told him. "No, not you," he said, smoothing his hand over the baby's head. "You are the best little slugger there is. Your Uncle Sammy, on the other hand, is an idiot."
Sam huffed. That didn't work. "All right. Fine. It's not a demon."
"No shit, assface." Dean glared at him.
Sam was going to try and reason with his brother. It wasn't always easy, but-- "Dean. We can't keep it. You know that, right?"
Dean sighed. Sam hated the sound - he'd heard it over and over again through his life, whenever one of them wanted something they couldn't have. "I know, Sam, but I'm not dumping him back in the middle of the woods either." Sam hated to admit it, but Dean had a point. "We'll keep him for the night. Nothing's open now anyway, and when we get up tomorrow we'll check out the town and see if anyone's reported a baby gone missing. Ok?"
"Fine. But I'm not getting up when he cries later, you are." Not that Sam would admit it out loud, but Dean was better with kids anyway. The way the baby had just fallen asleep on his shoulder was proof right there.
"Great. Perfect. Now get out of the way so I can change him."
Sam stepped back and held his hands in the air. Dean had laid the baby back on the bed, and was singing Master of Puppets quietly under his breath, as he moved thick fingers over the tiny buttons of the baby's blue jumper.
"You get me a clean undershirt or something, Sam?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded and grabbed his bag from the floor. He rummaged around until he found a clean shirt and realized that yeah, okay, it made sense Dean would be good with the kid. He practically raised Sam, so he was probably really normal around little kids and babies.
He was handing Dean the t-shirt and stopped, mid-way, as Dean unfastened the diaper and pulled it off.
"Uh, Dean?" Sam asked. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "You do realize that's a-"
"It's a girl, Sam." Dean had yanked his hands away and stepped back like the baby was made of dynamite.
Sam laughed quietly as she kicked and cooed at him from the bed. "Yep. She really is."
From the corner of his eye, Sam could see Dean rub a hand over his face. He was still covering his mouth when he turned his head toward Sam and said, "What the hell are we gonna do with a girl?"