In The Grip of Fate Chap 5/?
Title: In The Grip of Fate Chap 5/?
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wincest, babyfic! (NON-MPREG), angst
Word Count: 5,600
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: The boys begin their lives together, but life throws them an unexpected curveball. Deals and decisions.
Author Notes: Sequel to Just Breathe and set approximately 6 weeks after the timestamp Good Good Night. As always unbeta-ed.
“Deal?” Bobby’s bellow shook the small room.
“It’s not what you think.” Casey’s eyes were wide like a child who’d been caught by an angry parent. Bobby was across the room before she finished the sentence, grabbing her shoulders in a grip tight enough to blanch his knuckles.
“What did you do?” Bobby shook her, the force bobbling her head back and forth. Sam was floored. They’d known Bobby their whole lives and he was the epitome of calm and collected. He never raised his voice, never lost his cool, but this was Bobby on the edge. His blue eyes boiled with rage and his voice echoed off the walls. Rumsfeld rose from the floor and moved to Casey’s side, his large head trying to wedge between the older man and the girl.
Casey made no effort to stop Bobby. “It’s not what you think,” Casey repeated in a whisper, tears springing to the corners of her eyes.
“Bobby, stop. You’ll hurt her.” Dean sprang to his feet.
Shock crossed the older man’s face. He let go of Casey, hands hovering above the red impressions he’d made on her skin. In one swift motion, Bobby enveloped her, crushing her body to his. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice choked with emotion,“You and these boys are all the family I have.”
“I promise. I’m not going anywhere. It wasn’t that kind of deal.” Bobby released her and moved to the fireplace, staring into the depths of the ashes at the bottom, trying to regain some composure over himself.
“No? So you didn’t forfeit your body and soul to the angels,” Trotter asked, filling each word with as much hatred and disgust he could muster. He dropped his bag in the entry and pushed into the room, his anger a suffocating blanket in the crowded space.
Joey’s pacifier dropped from his quivering mouth, Sam catching it before it could fall to the ground. He nudged the tiny lips, coaxing them around the nub, then nuzzled the baby’s head with his face and gently shushed his whimpers. Trotter glanced over at the father and son with cold eyes.
“No more than my birthright did. I just reconfirmed my commitment.” Casey’s voice contained venom of its own, but her expression was tender when she looked over her shoulder to check on Bobby. “Look, the angels are faced with two separate but interrelated issues right now. First, there’s Joss, who they’re unsure how to handle. All they know for certain is that he will be a powerful force for either side and that if they come after him, I would take him and hide. Just like I have with the demons. Go so deep that they’d spend the rest of my natural life and his looking for us.
Which leads to their other dilemma - they’re short their two highest ranking Generals right now. With Zoe,” she wavered, “gone, they’re desperate to get me back. So, I made a deal. I would be allowed time to find a suitable home for Joss, one that could handle his unique situation, then I had to return home, completely to their service. I have to give him up, relinquish my claim as mother. Unless there is a serious threat to his life, I will be forbidden from having any direct contact with him. In exchange, the angels adopt a ‘wait and see’ policy concerning him."
“What the hell does that mean?” Dean wandered over to Sam and brushed his fingers across the soft, brown baby fuzz on top of Joey’s head.
“Despite what the demons seem to think, Joss’ destiny is not carved in stone. Nowhere was it written that he would be an agent for one side or the other. He is still human and governed by free will. His choices will determine his fate, nothing else. The angels have agreed to let him make those choices and pray he doesn’t make the wrong ones.”
“What happens if he doesn’t make the right decisions,” Bobby questioned, speaking for the first time since his outburst at Casey. He turned his drawn and tired face toward the room, gaze landing on the infant nestled in Sam’s arms.
“He’ll be dealt with.” Casey’s tone held a finality to it that caused a shiver to run up Sam’s spine. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Joss’ head. Confronted with horrified looks, Casey added, “That’s why I made them let me choose his home. If I wasn’t going to be there to guide him, I wanted to find someone who could. Please,” Casey’s eyes begged them to understand, “this is his only option. If I don’t uphold my end of the bargain, if I try to take him and run, we’ll be hunted to the end of our days. That’s not what I want for him - always on the run, never knowing if today will be the day they catch him. This is his chance at a life.”
Dean got it, he really did, and seeing Sam and Bobby’s faces, he knew they did too. Bobby sighed and crossed to Casey, who was still watching them with beseeching eyes, squeezing her shoulder as he went into the Kitchen. Casey relaxed at Bobby’s acceptance and purposefully avoided Trotter’s unreadable gaze to focus her attention on the two remaining people she felt could condemn her actions. The sounds of Bobby’s movements in the next room - water turning on to wash his dirty face, chair legs scraping across tile, a cork unstoppering a bottle, liquid pouring into a glass - were loud in the near silent Study, jarring the inhabitants and thickening the awkward anticipation hanging in the air.
Dean cleared his throat, breaking the mute standoff. “Have you decided who gets him?” Dean watched Sam’s body tense at the question, hands tightening slightly on the small boy’s body. Apparently, Sam’s large brain hadn’t processed that far.
“Not yet. I wanted to give his father an opportunity first.” Trotter snorted and Casey turned glowering eyes to him. “If Sam can’t take him then he’ll go to Trotter.”
Realization dawned on Dean and he just knew that if he looked up he would see a lit lightbulb above his head. Trotter wanted Joey. It was written in every line on his face and the desire in his eyes. Dean had figured out back in North Carolina that Trotter was in love with Casey and now that the angels owned her soul, it looked like he decided to go with the next best thing, her son.
“Um,” Casey started tiredly, “I know that this is a lot to be dropped on you guys at one time. I don’t expect an answer right now, but I will need one by tomorrow night. I am supposed to be back in North Carolina by Sunday morning so I have to leave early Saturday at the latest.” Her eyes flittered from one brother to the other. “Why don’t you give me Joss, Sam? I know we’ve monopolized your time since we arrived. I’m just going to take him upstairs for a nap.”
Sam grudgingly gave the infant over to her, his face a blank mask. He fidgeted his empty arms, unsure what to do with them without the warm weight to hold, first crossing them then letting them hang to his side.
Casey scooted past the larger man and called over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs. “Trotter, why don’t you see where Bobby wants you to sleep?”
The three men stood in place, listening to her footsteps on the creaking steps followed by the soft shutting of a door. Dean looked over to see Trotter eying Sam with a calculating gaze. “You know he’s better off with me, right? I can protect him better than you could ever dream of,” Trotter spat.
Sam lifted vacant eyes to Trotter’s face, but didn’t make any attempt to move or speak. Dean walked to his little brother’s side and cupped his elbow. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s go for a drive.”
Sam turned his head toward Dean then raised his gaze to the ceiling in the approximate direction of Casey and Joey’s room. Tugging him into the Kitchen, Dean urged, “They’re fine. I think you need some fresh air.”
Bobby was seated at the table again, staring blankly at the reference book on rugarus with a glass half full of amber liquid next to his hand. Shuffling Sam through the space, Dean snatched the keys from the ring by the backdoor. “Bobby, Sam and I are going for a drive. We’ll be back in a little bit.” Bobby nodded his head without looking up from the text.
Dean glanced at his brother in the passenger seat. Sam had been quiet and withdrawn since leaving the house, his face expressionless and distant. Dean knew this look, he’d seen it the Christmas that Sam learned the truth and the first time Sam went on a hunt. It was his little brother when he was overwhelmed. It reminded Dean of that Star Trek episode where they confused the computer into overloading and it shut down.
He turned off the road onto a gravel path and, coming up to a clearing, cut the engine to the Impala. Opening his door, he inhaled the clean summer air and tilted his face toward the bright sunshine. When Sam didn’t exit, Dean walked around and opened the passenger door.
“Walk with me?” Dean held out his hand and waited. Sam blinked a few times before volleying his gaze between Dean’s outstretched hand and his face. As if waking from a dream, Sam slowly reached out and allowed his older brother to pull him from the car. They made their way to the trailhead. It was a place they both knew well, coming here in their youth when they stayed at Bobby’s for any length of time.
Walking down the beaten path, Dean’s mind turned over the conversation at the house. Once you cut through all the explanations and arguing, you were left with one question - what to do with Joey? Sam was the logical one, thought things through five steps in the future. Dean could practically hear Sam’s mind running the calculations for the yearly cost of formula and diapers, visualizing Dean’s work schedule and his own school schedule. Dean always went with his guts, acting on baser instincts that kept him alive in a hunt. Dean knew what he wanted, knew as soon as he realized the little boy was Sam’s. He wanted Joey, wanted them to raise him as their own. He didn’t need to calculate or visualize. If other people could do it so could they. But in the end, it wasn’t up to him. Joey was Sam’s and the decision ultimately rested with him.
When they made it to the creek bed, Sam stopped and watched the water roll and tumble over the rocks lining both sides. Dean stood beside him, shoulders brushing.
“Sammy. Talk to me.”
“I love him, Dean. I don’t know how it will work, but I want him. I-I’ll understand if you want to go. I mean, you didn’t sign up for a baby, but he’s my son,” Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I can’t walk away from him.”
Dean placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder and pulled until Sam was facing him. Water shimmered in Sam’s eyes before falling down his cheeks and Dean brushed it away with his thumb. He curled his hand around the back of Sam’s neck and tugged until their lips met. The kiss was slow and deep, full of love and meaning.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sam. I want him too. We’ll figure it out just like we always do,” Dean smiled, leaning up to kiss him again.
“Really? You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Sam’s smile was blinding and Dean was helpless to do anything but return it. Large hands rose and cupped Dean’s face, bringing them together again. Their joy mingled and multiplied, coupled with the low level desire that had been thrumming through their system from being at Bobby’s, quickly escalating the soft press of lips into something more urgent.
Dean’s hands went to Sam’s hips and guided him to a grassy area a little further back from the stream. Lowering Sam gently to the soft blades, Dean covered his body, mouth moving to the long expanse of neck. He kissed his way down and bit gently at the one spot he knew would make his younger brother shiver. Mouthing his way back up to Sam’s ear, he nibbled at the lobe and drug his tongue around the shell.
“I love you, Sammy, and I love our boy,” Dean whispered huskily in his ear.
Our boy. Sam shuddered as the words coursed through him and ignited a fire under his skin. He wiggled and writhed under Dean, worming his hand between their bodies. He pulled and pushed at belts, buttons and zippers until both pairs of jeans and boxers were down around their knees. Gyrating his hips and arching his back, Sam hissed when his cock slid against Dean’s.
“Oh, God. Sam!” Dean pressed his palms down in the soft ground next to Sam’s head and supported his upper body, giving Sam room to wrap his hand around them both. His mind whirled. They were going to be a family - him, Sam and Joey. It was more than he ever dreamed he could have, ever dared hope for. He was so lost in his thoughts that his building orgasm took him by surprise. A few strokes, precome easing the slide of their flesh together and in the circle of Sam’s hand, and Dean cried out as he erupted. Breathing heavily, he felt warmth splash against his chest and knew that Sam had followed him over the edge.
Arms shaking, he rolled over and lay next to Sam in the grass. He turned his head to face his brother when he felt long, strong fingers interlace with his own. Sam face was a myriad of emotions: love, awe, gratitude. They lay in the warm grass, listening to the forest alive around them. The noise of the babbling creek nearby combined with their sated state to lull them into sleep.
The buzz of a fly woke Dean a short time later and he rolled on his side to face Sam. He ran his finger feather light down Sam’s nose, tapping the mole on his cheek. The corners of Sam’s lips twitched into a smile.
“Thought you were sleeping.” Dean smirked as Sam slowly opened his eyes.
“Been awake for a little while. Thinking.”
“About what, Sammy?” Like Dean didn’t know. What doesn’t he know about his little brother?
“Dean, are you really sure about Joey? Babies are a lot of work. Our lives will never be the same.” Sam bit at his lower lip, eyes open and honest.
Dean propped up on his elbow and leaned over using his teeth to rescue Sam’s lip from the self-inflicted torture. He licked over the abused flesh and kissed him again, tongues tangling in languid strokes. Running his fingertips down Sam’s cheek, Dean studied Sam with a serious expression. He huffed a sigh and let his eyes drift until they caught on something on the other side of the creek.
“Sam,” Dean hesitated, gaze firmly focused across the water and tone grave. Sam’s heart clenched, waiting for the axe to fall. “I don’t know,” Dean paused and Sam swallowed hard, “if we should do his nursery in racecars or sports. What do you think?” Dean grinned wide, Sam’s heart warming at the sight.
“I think I love you.”
“Get dressed. Let’s go see our boy.”
Dean and Sam playfully shoved each other as they entered the unusually quiet house. Stopping just inside the entryway, Dean craned his neck to peer into the Study. Finding it empty, he shrugged at Sam and cocked his head to the side, ear directed at the ceiling above them to listen for sounds upstairs.
“You think Joey’s still asleep?” Sam looked down at his watch. “We’ve been gone for a couple of hours.”
“Could be. Babies that small still need a lot of sleep. Where’s everyone else then?”
Sam rocked up on the balls of his feet and looked out one of the small windows set high in the front door. “The Pinto’s still here so Bobby’s probably out back working on that Chevy half-ton again. Don’t know about Casey and Trotter.”
The back screen door’s wood frame slammed against the door casing, cracking the silence, and the boys traded guess that answers that looks. A deep bass voice drifted on the air, too low to make out the actual words, followed by a small splash. With arched eyebrows, the Winchesters moved into the Study toward the Kitchen.
“Damnit, Trotter,” Casey seethed, causing Sam and Dean to stop just out of sight. “We’re not talking about this.”
“Yes, we are. You are making a huge mistake here. Just because the moose has a nice ass doesn’t mean he should get Joss.” Trotter’s voice was barely raised, but still louder than they had ever heard it. Dean held back a snort at the man’s insult of his brother.
Should a man that resembles a small grizzly really be throwing around animal insults? Glass houses and all…
Sam crept forward, peeking around the side of the archway. With a flick of his wrist, he motioned for Dean to move quickly across the opening to the other side. It seemed Sam’s trek on the moral high road stopped when the conversation was about him. Dean dared a glance. Casey was at the Kitchen sink filled with bubbly water, a newly cleaned plate clutched tightly in her hand. Trotter stood a few feet away, hip cocked against the counter and arms crossed over his barrel chest.
Shaking the excess water from the plate with two quick, jerky shakes of her hand, Casey set it none too gently in the strainer next to the sink. She turned to face the larger man, wet hands on her hips soaking into the material of her shirt.
“Funny,” she replied flatly. “The moose is Joss’ father. If anyone should get him, it’s his father.” Her face was hard as she glared at Trotter. “The decision is Sam’s. If he wants him, then Joss will go with them. If he doesn’t, you can take Joss home with you. You want to keep talking then go ahead and waste your breath, but I have things to do.” She turned away from him, picked up another plate and dropped it into the sudsy water.
Trotter watched her run the plastic bristled scrub brush over the surface of the plate, mind visibly working over the words to launch the next angle of his attack. An odd expression passed over his face, somewhere between triumphant and cruel. “Sam’s just a child, Casey. You’re putting the future of your son in the hands of a teenager. You might as well go slit Joss’ throat now. It’ll be better than what the angels will do to him when Sam fails.”
Dean pried his eyes away from Trotter’s face, seeking his brother’s across the way. Sam’s face was pale, his eyes wide and afraid, and uncertainty clouded his features. His gaze rolled automatically, just as it had earlier, to the ceiling in the vague direction of where he assumed his son slept. Sam’s balled fist flew up to his mouth - Dean wasn’t sure if it was to keep from making a sound or so he wouldn’t throw up - and he bit the tender flesh on the back of his hand.
Molten anger burned through Dean’s veins at the self-doubt written all over Sam at Trotter’s words. His attention was drawn back to the Kitchen when Casey slammed the clean plate down in the rack, rattling the others already drying there. Her shoulders were tense and shook as she took great heaving breaths. She turned eyes blazing with a cold fire to her long-time friend.
“He’s not a child,” she answered, pure fury to match Dean’s infusing her words. “He’s a fucking Winchester. They don’t know how to fail.”
Dean heard Sam echo Trotter’s surprised gasp. He darted a quick look at his brother and his heart swelled in affection for Casey at the sight. The color had returned to Sam’s cheeks and the fear in his eyes had been replaced with determination. Her words had reminded Sam of who he was and given him back the confidence that Trotter had stolen. Dean could see that Sam would wrestle the hellhounds themselves to protect his son.
Trotter seemed to shrink under Casey’s penetrating stare. He held his hands up in surrender and stepped back until he could pull open the screen door. Casey’s gaze didn’t waver until the springed door bounced off the casing. She snatched a glass off the counter, the thin sides shattering under her strong grip.
Dean bumped into Sam’s as they hurried to her side. As Dean reached into a drawer for a clean dishtowel, Sam took her bleeding hand in his own.
“There’s a piece of glass stuck in there. I’m going to have to pull it out.” Sam’s face was scrunched up in sympathy, knowing it was going to hurt. Shaking her head in frustration, Casey waved her other hand in a go ahead gesture. Sam firmly grasped the triangular piece between his fingers and pulled it free in one swift motion. Dean nudged him with the towel and bent to grab the first aid kit from under the sink. Sam guided her over to a chair and ducked his head to examine the severity of the cut.
“Thanks,” he murmured, looking up at her from under his bangs. She smiled slightly and nodded, wincing when Sam prodded the open wound.
“Here.” Dean popped the lid on the first aid kit and set it at Sam’s elbow.
Sam set Casey’s hand down on the table and nodded his thanks to his brother. Poking through the supplies, he sighed. “I want him,” he began and catching Dean’s eye, amended, “We want him.” He pulled an alcohol wipe from the box and tore open the package. Focused on his task, he added in a small voice, “If-if you really think he’s better off with me.”
Casey studied Sam’s face for a minute. “It’s settled then.”
Sam sat at the Kitchen table, Joey cradled between his forearms, resting on the length of his thighs. Dean stole glances out of the corner of his eye from his spot next to Casey at the sink. Last night Sam had helped clean up after dinner so it was only fair that Dean take a turn, but he didn’t know how effective he was being when he looked down to see that in his distraction the end of the towel had dipped into the dish water. Casey rolled her eyes as he squeezed the water from the edge and handed him the last pot to dry.
Dinner had been colder than a witch’s tit - What? It was one of John Winchester’s favorite expressions - with Trotter and Casey doing their best to pretend the other didn’t exist. The tension was so thick that when Joey woke from his nap crying, Sam, Dean and Bobby all jumped up, racing to get him. Sam won only because his legs were longer and he could take the stairs three at a time. He came back to the table a few minutes later with a bottle and a hungry baby. Seeing Sam feeding Joey, Trotter threw his napkin in his plate and curtly excused himself. The rumble of his pick-up truck rattled the pictures on the walls. No one had seen him since and really Dean could care less. Any lingering gratitude he’d had for the man for saving Sam last year went right out the window earlier.
Casey pulled the plug, letting the water drain, and dried her hands on a spare towel hanging on the oven door. “You boys wait here a minute, I have some things we need to look over.” She disappeared upstairs, calling to Bobby to join them on her way back.
She dropped a manila envelope on the table as they each took a seat. Sam adjusted Joey to his shoulder and eyed the package. It was stuffed full, the duo-tang fastener barely keeping the flap closed. Without preamble, Casey opened the envelope and dumped the contents out. Binder clipped stacks of papers, loose papers and half a dozen checkbooks slid across the varnished table top.
“What’s all this,” Dean asked, catching one of the vinyl covered checkbooks before it fell on the floor.
“If you and Sam are going to take Joss, there are some things that need to be taken care of first. I don’t want anyone,” she glanced at the back door, “to contest your right to him.” Casey picked up the thickest stack of papers first. “I had my lawyer draw up some papers showing me giving full custody of Joss to Sam.” She thumbed to a page marked with a cellophane tab with a yellow arrow and the words SIGN HERE. She creased the flipped pages to keep them from closing and pushed the stack toward Sam. “I already signed them. All you have to do, Sam, is sign above your name. Bobby, if you and Dean could sign as witnesses that would be great.”
Dean held out his hands for Joey, snuggling the baby against his chest when he was handed over. Sam picked up the pen, but hesitated, questioning eyes on his brother. Dean nodded his head in encouragement and stroked Joey’s back while Sam penned his name on documents that would make him theirs. Dean shooed off Sam’s attempt to take Joey back so Dean could sign, merely adjusting his hold on the baby and scratching Dean Browning on one of the witness lines. Bobby drug the papers closer and followed suit.
“Good,” Casey murmured distractedly when Bobby slid the papers back to her. She dug through the loose sheets and pulled out a light blue half piece of paper with a dark blue border. In the lower left corner Dean could see the seal for the State of Florida. Sam stared at it for a moment with a half-awed, half-proud smile before turning it for Dean to see. It was Joey’s birth certificate with Sam’s Remington alias printed in bold black letters as Name of Father. He figured that Casey would make Joey’s last name Remington to match Sam’s new identity, but something about seeing Joseph Samuel Remington made Dean’s stomach ache. Tracing a finger over the name, he vowed that Joey would always know that no matter what his birth certificate may say, he was a Winchester.
Casey went over the other sheets, some legal documents that Sam needed to sign and others medical data on Joey and herself - in case they needed her history in the future. When all the papers had been put back in the envelope, Casey addressed the multi-colored checkbooks.
“I took the liberty of setting up some checking accounts for you guys and depositing a little money in them. Most are in both of your names, but a couple are in Joss’ name with y’all listed as the guardians. It should help with the expense of raising a baby.”
“We don’t need your money, Casey,” Dean protested, his pride unwilling to let them accept what it perceived as charity. He had a job lined up and could damn well provide for his family.
“Joss is my son. It would all be his one day anyway. This is my way of ensuring he gets it.” Casey shrugged.
Sam picked up one of the checkbooks and flipping to the register nearly choked on his own spit. He checked the beginning balances of the other accounts to find similar amounts.
“Casey..” He looked at her dumbly, shock evident on his face.
“What’s the matter, Sam?” Dean leaned over concerned and sucked in a harsh breath at the 0s. What the hell? “Casey, where did you get this kind of money?”
Bobby snickered, “They don’t know do they?”
Casey rolled her eyes and shook her head. “My overseas accounts,” she stated simply. “I’m transferring some domestic funds around and liquefying a few assets so there will be more deposits soon.”
Overseas accounts? Assets? More deposits?!
Both brothers were struck speechless. Sam’s mind wheeled. They had a couple thousand dollars in a savings account at the local bank from working while in Florida and it was more money than they’d ever had growing up. What was already in these accounts was more than the budget of several decent sized cities…combined.
“Casey, we can’t take this.” Dean apparently had moved past his shock and gained control of his voice again.
“Yes, you can,” she said firmly. “Look, not that it’s any of your business, but I still have enough in my domestic accounts to offer you and Sam and indecent proposal every night for a month. And that doesn’t take into account what I own in property. Plus Zoe left me enough money to keep in the lap of epicurean luxury for the rest of my life. We fight our whole lives and tend to die young. It doesn’t leave a lot of time for frivolous spending. Just take it. Like I said, it’s all technically Joss’ anyway.”
“Thanks,” Sam mumbled, words feeling inadequate in his mouth.
Casey smiled warmly at him. “Just remember that when tax time rolls around. I’m going to give Joey a bath and put him to bed.” She got up and kissed all three men on the cheek before taking Joey from Dean and heading up the stairs.
Dean and Sam stared at each other with open mouths. Bobby went to the refrigerator and pulled out three bottles of beer. Laughing, he set them on the table and twisted the caps off. He picked up one, tilted the neck in their direction and toasted them. “Here’s to the goddamn Rockefellers of northern Indiana.”
They sat and drank for a long time. Dean describing all the things he could buy now while Sam shot each one down with an admonishment that they weren’t going to ‘Brewster’ away the money. Three beers later while Dean was trying to explain the necessity of a multi-media room, headlights moved across the wall followed by the sound of a large pick-up truck pulling into the drive.
“Sounds like Trotter’s back,” Bobby mumbled.
Sam and Dean considered that their cue and decided it was time to go to bed.
Sam opened his eyes in the darkened room, not sure what had woken him. He looked over at the clock on the nightstand and groaned at the blue display showing 5:14. Disentangling from Dean, he got up and stumbled across the hall to the bathroom. Eyes closed against the moonlight streaming through the window in the hallway, Sam walked with his hand out, hoping he wouldn’t run into the door. A sound pricked his ears and he stopped, wondering if he’d imagined it. There it was again. It took his sleep addled brain a few minutes to figure out it was Joey, through the partially open door to Casey’s room, starting to wake up.
Forcing his eyes open, Sam pushed the door all the way open. Casey’s bed was empty and Joey was moving restlessly in the playpen. Just as Sam reached the side, Joey’s small face contorted, his rose colored bottom lip jutted out, and he let out a piteous wail. Sam leaned over and scooped up his son before his cries got any louder and rocked him in his arms.
“Where’s your Mommy, huh,” Sam cooed soothingly. He pulled a diaper from the bag next to the playpen and laid Joey on the bed to change his pants.
“Sammy?” Dean appeared in the doorway, fists scrubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, Dean. Joey was crying so I was going to change his diaper and get him a bottle. I don’t know where Casey is. I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to bed.” Sam secured the self-adhesive tabs on the sides of the diaper and ran his fingertips lightly over Joey’s exposed stomach. The baby squirmed under the ticklish sensation.
“You didn’t wake me. This did.”
“Huh?” Sam turned to see Dean holding up a small plastic box about the size of a Walkman. “What is that?”
Dean reached under the shade of the lamp on the dresser and flicked the switched, bathing the room in a soft, amber light. On the dresser stood a matching box except this one had a red light in one corner. “I think it’s a baby monitor.”
“Why was there a baby monitor in our room?” Sam snapped the legs of Joey’s onesie, realizing that hearing Joey through the monitor must have woke him up.
“I dunno.” Dean yawned and scratched his stomach. His eyes traveled over the room, hand stilling mid-scratch. Blinking hard to clear away sleep, Dean’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he really looked around the room. Moving quickly, he went to the window and pulled back the curtain. As he passed the dresser, a folded piece of paper fluttered to the ground.
“Casey’s car is gone. So is Trotter’s truck.” Dean turned back to the room to see Sam pick up the paper and unfold it.
“She’s gone.” Sam muttered, then reading aloud. “Please tell him I loved him.”
Chapter 6
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wincest, babyfic! (NON-MPREG), angst
Word Count: 5,600
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: The boys begin their lives together, but life throws them an unexpected curveball. Deals and decisions.
Author Notes: Sequel to Just Breathe and set approximately 6 weeks after the timestamp Good Good Night. As always unbeta-ed.
“Deal?” Bobby’s bellow shook the small room.
“It’s not what you think.” Casey’s eyes were wide like a child who’d been caught by an angry parent. Bobby was across the room before she finished the sentence, grabbing her shoulders in a grip tight enough to blanch his knuckles.
“What did you do?” Bobby shook her, the force bobbling her head back and forth. Sam was floored. They’d known Bobby their whole lives and he was the epitome of calm and collected. He never raised his voice, never lost his cool, but this was Bobby on the edge. His blue eyes boiled with rage and his voice echoed off the walls. Rumsfeld rose from the floor and moved to Casey’s side, his large head trying to wedge between the older man and the girl.
Casey made no effort to stop Bobby. “It’s not what you think,” Casey repeated in a whisper, tears springing to the corners of her eyes.
“Bobby, stop. You’ll hurt her.” Dean sprang to his feet.
Shock crossed the older man’s face. He let go of Casey, hands hovering above the red impressions he’d made on her skin. In one swift motion, Bobby enveloped her, crushing her body to his. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice choked with emotion,“You and these boys are all the family I have.”
“I promise. I’m not going anywhere. It wasn’t that kind of deal.” Bobby released her and moved to the fireplace, staring into the depths of the ashes at the bottom, trying to regain some composure over himself.
“No? So you didn’t forfeit your body and soul to the angels,” Trotter asked, filling each word with as much hatred and disgust he could muster. He dropped his bag in the entry and pushed into the room, his anger a suffocating blanket in the crowded space.
Joey’s pacifier dropped from his quivering mouth, Sam catching it before it could fall to the ground. He nudged the tiny lips, coaxing them around the nub, then nuzzled the baby’s head with his face and gently shushed his whimpers. Trotter glanced over at the father and son with cold eyes.
“No more than my birthright did. I just reconfirmed my commitment.” Casey’s voice contained venom of its own, but her expression was tender when she looked over her shoulder to check on Bobby. “Look, the angels are faced with two separate but interrelated issues right now. First, there’s Joss, who they’re unsure how to handle. All they know for certain is that he will be a powerful force for either side and that if they come after him, I would take him and hide. Just like I have with the demons. Go so deep that they’d spend the rest of my natural life and his looking for us.
Which leads to their other dilemma - they’re short their two highest ranking Generals right now. With Zoe,” she wavered, “gone, they’re desperate to get me back. So, I made a deal. I would be allowed time to find a suitable home for Joss, one that could handle his unique situation, then I had to return home, completely to their service. I have to give him up, relinquish my claim as mother. Unless there is a serious threat to his life, I will be forbidden from having any direct contact with him. In exchange, the angels adopt a ‘wait and see’ policy concerning him."
“What the hell does that mean?” Dean wandered over to Sam and brushed his fingers across the soft, brown baby fuzz on top of Joey’s head.
“Despite what the demons seem to think, Joss’ destiny is not carved in stone. Nowhere was it written that he would be an agent for one side or the other. He is still human and governed by free will. His choices will determine his fate, nothing else. The angels have agreed to let him make those choices and pray he doesn’t make the wrong ones.”
“What happens if he doesn’t make the right decisions,” Bobby questioned, speaking for the first time since his outburst at Casey. He turned his drawn and tired face toward the room, gaze landing on the infant nestled in Sam’s arms.
“He’ll be dealt with.” Casey’s tone held a finality to it that caused a shiver to run up Sam’s spine. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Joss’ head. Confronted with horrified looks, Casey added, “That’s why I made them let me choose his home. If I wasn’t going to be there to guide him, I wanted to find someone who could. Please,” Casey’s eyes begged them to understand, “this is his only option. If I don’t uphold my end of the bargain, if I try to take him and run, we’ll be hunted to the end of our days. That’s not what I want for him - always on the run, never knowing if today will be the day they catch him. This is his chance at a life.”
Dean got it, he really did, and seeing Sam and Bobby’s faces, he knew they did too. Bobby sighed and crossed to Casey, who was still watching them with beseeching eyes, squeezing her shoulder as he went into the Kitchen. Casey relaxed at Bobby’s acceptance and purposefully avoided Trotter’s unreadable gaze to focus her attention on the two remaining people she felt could condemn her actions. The sounds of Bobby’s movements in the next room - water turning on to wash his dirty face, chair legs scraping across tile, a cork unstoppering a bottle, liquid pouring into a glass - were loud in the near silent Study, jarring the inhabitants and thickening the awkward anticipation hanging in the air.
Dean cleared his throat, breaking the mute standoff. “Have you decided who gets him?” Dean watched Sam’s body tense at the question, hands tightening slightly on the small boy’s body. Apparently, Sam’s large brain hadn’t processed that far.
“Not yet. I wanted to give his father an opportunity first.” Trotter snorted and Casey turned glowering eyes to him. “If Sam can’t take him then he’ll go to Trotter.”
Realization dawned on Dean and he just knew that if he looked up he would see a lit lightbulb above his head. Trotter wanted Joey. It was written in every line on his face and the desire in his eyes. Dean had figured out back in North Carolina that Trotter was in love with Casey and now that the angels owned her soul, it looked like he decided to go with the next best thing, her son.
“Um,” Casey started tiredly, “I know that this is a lot to be dropped on you guys at one time. I don’t expect an answer right now, but I will need one by tomorrow night. I am supposed to be back in North Carolina by Sunday morning so I have to leave early Saturday at the latest.” Her eyes flittered from one brother to the other. “Why don’t you give me Joss, Sam? I know we’ve monopolized your time since we arrived. I’m just going to take him upstairs for a nap.”
Sam grudgingly gave the infant over to her, his face a blank mask. He fidgeted his empty arms, unsure what to do with them without the warm weight to hold, first crossing them then letting them hang to his side.
Casey scooted past the larger man and called over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs. “Trotter, why don’t you see where Bobby wants you to sleep?”
The three men stood in place, listening to her footsteps on the creaking steps followed by the soft shutting of a door. Dean looked over to see Trotter eying Sam with a calculating gaze. “You know he’s better off with me, right? I can protect him better than you could ever dream of,” Trotter spat.
Sam lifted vacant eyes to Trotter’s face, but didn’t make any attempt to move or speak. Dean walked to his little brother’s side and cupped his elbow. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s go for a drive.”
Sam turned his head toward Dean then raised his gaze to the ceiling in the approximate direction of Casey and Joey’s room. Tugging him into the Kitchen, Dean urged, “They’re fine. I think you need some fresh air.”
Bobby was seated at the table again, staring blankly at the reference book on rugarus with a glass half full of amber liquid next to his hand. Shuffling Sam through the space, Dean snatched the keys from the ring by the backdoor. “Bobby, Sam and I are going for a drive. We’ll be back in a little bit.” Bobby nodded his head without looking up from the text.
Dean glanced at his brother in the passenger seat. Sam had been quiet and withdrawn since leaving the house, his face expressionless and distant. Dean knew this look, he’d seen it the Christmas that Sam learned the truth and the first time Sam went on a hunt. It was his little brother when he was overwhelmed. It reminded Dean of that Star Trek episode where they confused the computer into overloading and it shut down.
He turned off the road onto a gravel path and, coming up to a clearing, cut the engine to the Impala. Opening his door, he inhaled the clean summer air and tilted his face toward the bright sunshine. When Sam didn’t exit, Dean walked around and opened the passenger door.
“Walk with me?” Dean held out his hand and waited. Sam blinked a few times before volleying his gaze between Dean’s outstretched hand and his face. As if waking from a dream, Sam slowly reached out and allowed his older brother to pull him from the car. They made their way to the trailhead. It was a place they both knew well, coming here in their youth when they stayed at Bobby’s for any length of time.
Walking down the beaten path, Dean’s mind turned over the conversation at the house. Once you cut through all the explanations and arguing, you were left with one question - what to do with Joey? Sam was the logical one, thought things through five steps in the future. Dean could practically hear Sam’s mind running the calculations for the yearly cost of formula and diapers, visualizing Dean’s work schedule and his own school schedule. Dean always went with his guts, acting on baser instincts that kept him alive in a hunt. Dean knew what he wanted, knew as soon as he realized the little boy was Sam’s. He wanted Joey, wanted them to raise him as their own. He didn’t need to calculate or visualize. If other people could do it so could they. But in the end, it wasn’t up to him. Joey was Sam’s and the decision ultimately rested with him.
When they made it to the creek bed, Sam stopped and watched the water roll and tumble over the rocks lining both sides. Dean stood beside him, shoulders brushing.
“Sammy. Talk to me.”
“I love him, Dean. I don’t know how it will work, but I want him. I-I’ll understand if you want to go. I mean, you didn’t sign up for a baby, but he’s my son,” Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I can’t walk away from him.”
Dean placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder and pulled until Sam was facing him. Water shimmered in Sam’s eyes before falling down his cheeks and Dean brushed it away with his thumb. He curled his hand around the back of Sam’s neck and tugged until their lips met. The kiss was slow and deep, full of love and meaning.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sam. I want him too. We’ll figure it out just like we always do,” Dean smiled, leaning up to kiss him again.
“Really? You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Sam’s smile was blinding and Dean was helpless to do anything but return it. Large hands rose and cupped Dean’s face, bringing them together again. Their joy mingled and multiplied, coupled with the low level desire that had been thrumming through their system from being at Bobby’s, quickly escalating the soft press of lips into something more urgent.
Dean’s hands went to Sam’s hips and guided him to a grassy area a little further back from the stream. Lowering Sam gently to the soft blades, Dean covered his body, mouth moving to the long expanse of neck. He kissed his way down and bit gently at the one spot he knew would make his younger brother shiver. Mouthing his way back up to Sam’s ear, he nibbled at the lobe and drug his tongue around the shell.
“I love you, Sammy, and I love our boy,” Dean whispered huskily in his ear.
Our boy. Sam shuddered as the words coursed through him and ignited a fire under his skin. He wiggled and writhed under Dean, worming his hand between their bodies. He pulled and pushed at belts, buttons and zippers until both pairs of jeans and boxers were down around their knees. Gyrating his hips and arching his back, Sam hissed when his cock slid against Dean’s.
“Oh, God. Sam!” Dean pressed his palms down in the soft ground next to Sam’s head and supported his upper body, giving Sam room to wrap his hand around them both. His mind whirled. They were going to be a family - him, Sam and Joey. It was more than he ever dreamed he could have, ever dared hope for. He was so lost in his thoughts that his building orgasm took him by surprise. A few strokes, precome easing the slide of their flesh together and in the circle of Sam’s hand, and Dean cried out as he erupted. Breathing heavily, he felt warmth splash against his chest and knew that Sam had followed him over the edge.
Arms shaking, he rolled over and lay next to Sam in the grass. He turned his head to face his brother when he felt long, strong fingers interlace with his own. Sam face was a myriad of emotions: love, awe, gratitude. They lay in the warm grass, listening to the forest alive around them. The noise of the babbling creek nearby combined with their sated state to lull them into sleep.
The buzz of a fly woke Dean a short time later and he rolled on his side to face Sam. He ran his finger feather light down Sam’s nose, tapping the mole on his cheek. The corners of Sam’s lips twitched into a smile.
“Thought you were sleeping.” Dean smirked as Sam slowly opened his eyes.
“Been awake for a little while. Thinking.”
“About what, Sammy?” Like Dean didn’t know. What doesn’t he know about his little brother?
“Dean, are you really sure about Joey? Babies are a lot of work. Our lives will never be the same.” Sam bit at his lower lip, eyes open and honest.
Dean propped up on his elbow and leaned over using his teeth to rescue Sam’s lip from the self-inflicted torture. He licked over the abused flesh and kissed him again, tongues tangling in languid strokes. Running his fingertips down Sam’s cheek, Dean studied Sam with a serious expression. He huffed a sigh and let his eyes drift until they caught on something on the other side of the creek.
“Sam,” Dean hesitated, gaze firmly focused across the water and tone grave. Sam’s heart clenched, waiting for the axe to fall. “I don’t know,” Dean paused and Sam swallowed hard, “if we should do his nursery in racecars or sports. What do you think?” Dean grinned wide, Sam’s heart warming at the sight.
“I think I love you.”
“Get dressed. Let’s go see our boy.”
Dean and Sam playfully shoved each other as they entered the unusually quiet house. Stopping just inside the entryway, Dean craned his neck to peer into the Study. Finding it empty, he shrugged at Sam and cocked his head to the side, ear directed at the ceiling above them to listen for sounds upstairs.
“You think Joey’s still asleep?” Sam looked down at his watch. “We’ve been gone for a couple of hours.”
“Could be. Babies that small still need a lot of sleep. Where’s everyone else then?”
Sam rocked up on the balls of his feet and looked out one of the small windows set high in the front door. “The Pinto’s still here so Bobby’s probably out back working on that Chevy half-ton again. Don’t know about Casey and Trotter.”
The back screen door’s wood frame slammed against the door casing, cracking the silence, and the boys traded guess that answers that looks. A deep bass voice drifted on the air, too low to make out the actual words, followed by a small splash. With arched eyebrows, the Winchesters moved into the Study toward the Kitchen.
“Damnit, Trotter,” Casey seethed, causing Sam and Dean to stop just out of sight. “We’re not talking about this.”
“Yes, we are. You are making a huge mistake here. Just because the moose has a nice ass doesn’t mean he should get Joss.” Trotter’s voice was barely raised, but still louder than they had ever heard it. Dean held back a snort at the man’s insult of his brother.
Should a man that resembles a small grizzly really be throwing around animal insults? Glass houses and all…
Sam crept forward, peeking around the side of the archway. With a flick of his wrist, he motioned for Dean to move quickly across the opening to the other side. It seemed Sam’s trek on the moral high road stopped when the conversation was about him. Dean dared a glance. Casey was at the Kitchen sink filled with bubbly water, a newly cleaned plate clutched tightly in her hand. Trotter stood a few feet away, hip cocked against the counter and arms crossed over his barrel chest.
Shaking the excess water from the plate with two quick, jerky shakes of her hand, Casey set it none too gently in the strainer next to the sink. She turned to face the larger man, wet hands on her hips soaking into the material of her shirt.
“Funny,” she replied flatly. “The moose is Joss’ father. If anyone should get him, it’s his father.” Her face was hard as she glared at Trotter. “The decision is Sam’s. If he wants him, then Joss will go with them. If he doesn’t, you can take Joss home with you. You want to keep talking then go ahead and waste your breath, but I have things to do.” She turned away from him, picked up another plate and dropped it into the sudsy water.
Trotter watched her run the plastic bristled scrub brush over the surface of the plate, mind visibly working over the words to launch the next angle of his attack. An odd expression passed over his face, somewhere between triumphant and cruel. “Sam’s just a child, Casey. You’re putting the future of your son in the hands of a teenager. You might as well go slit Joss’ throat now. It’ll be better than what the angels will do to him when Sam fails.”
Dean pried his eyes away from Trotter’s face, seeking his brother’s across the way. Sam’s face was pale, his eyes wide and afraid, and uncertainty clouded his features. His gaze rolled automatically, just as it had earlier, to the ceiling in the vague direction of where he assumed his son slept. Sam’s balled fist flew up to his mouth - Dean wasn’t sure if it was to keep from making a sound or so he wouldn’t throw up - and he bit the tender flesh on the back of his hand.
Molten anger burned through Dean’s veins at the self-doubt written all over Sam at Trotter’s words. His attention was drawn back to the Kitchen when Casey slammed the clean plate down in the rack, rattling the others already drying there. Her shoulders were tense and shook as she took great heaving breaths. She turned eyes blazing with a cold fire to her long-time friend.
“He’s not a child,” she answered, pure fury to match Dean’s infusing her words. “He’s a fucking Winchester. They don’t know how to fail.”
Dean heard Sam echo Trotter’s surprised gasp. He darted a quick look at his brother and his heart swelled in affection for Casey at the sight. The color had returned to Sam’s cheeks and the fear in his eyes had been replaced with determination. Her words had reminded Sam of who he was and given him back the confidence that Trotter had stolen. Dean could see that Sam would wrestle the hellhounds themselves to protect his son.
Trotter seemed to shrink under Casey’s penetrating stare. He held his hands up in surrender and stepped back until he could pull open the screen door. Casey’s gaze didn’t waver until the springed door bounced off the casing. She snatched a glass off the counter, the thin sides shattering under her strong grip.
Dean bumped into Sam’s as they hurried to her side. As Dean reached into a drawer for a clean dishtowel, Sam took her bleeding hand in his own.
“There’s a piece of glass stuck in there. I’m going to have to pull it out.” Sam’s face was scrunched up in sympathy, knowing it was going to hurt. Shaking her head in frustration, Casey waved her other hand in a go ahead gesture. Sam firmly grasped the triangular piece between his fingers and pulled it free in one swift motion. Dean nudged him with the towel and bent to grab the first aid kit from under the sink. Sam guided her over to a chair and ducked his head to examine the severity of the cut.
“Thanks,” he murmured, looking up at her from under his bangs. She smiled slightly and nodded, wincing when Sam prodded the open wound.
“Here.” Dean popped the lid on the first aid kit and set it at Sam’s elbow.
Sam set Casey’s hand down on the table and nodded his thanks to his brother. Poking through the supplies, he sighed. “I want him,” he began and catching Dean’s eye, amended, “We want him.” He pulled an alcohol wipe from the box and tore open the package. Focused on his task, he added in a small voice, “If-if you really think he’s better off with me.”
Casey studied Sam’s face for a minute. “It’s settled then.”
Sam sat at the Kitchen table, Joey cradled between his forearms, resting on the length of his thighs. Dean stole glances out of the corner of his eye from his spot next to Casey at the sink. Last night Sam had helped clean up after dinner so it was only fair that Dean take a turn, but he didn’t know how effective he was being when he looked down to see that in his distraction the end of the towel had dipped into the dish water. Casey rolled her eyes as he squeezed the water from the edge and handed him the last pot to dry.
Dinner had been colder than a witch’s tit - What? It was one of John Winchester’s favorite expressions - with Trotter and Casey doing their best to pretend the other didn’t exist. The tension was so thick that when Joey woke from his nap crying, Sam, Dean and Bobby all jumped up, racing to get him. Sam won only because his legs were longer and he could take the stairs three at a time. He came back to the table a few minutes later with a bottle and a hungry baby. Seeing Sam feeding Joey, Trotter threw his napkin in his plate and curtly excused himself. The rumble of his pick-up truck rattled the pictures on the walls. No one had seen him since and really Dean could care less. Any lingering gratitude he’d had for the man for saving Sam last year went right out the window earlier.
Casey pulled the plug, letting the water drain, and dried her hands on a spare towel hanging on the oven door. “You boys wait here a minute, I have some things we need to look over.” She disappeared upstairs, calling to Bobby to join them on her way back.
She dropped a manila envelope on the table as they each took a seat. Sam adjusted Joey to his shoulder and eyed the package. It was stuffed full, the duo-tang fastener barely keeping the flap closed. Without preamble, Casey opened the envelope and dumped the contents out. Binder clipped stacks of papers, loose papers and half a dozen checkbooks slid across the varnished table top.
“What’s all this,” Dean asked, catching one of the vinyl covered checkbooks before it fell on the floor.
“If you and Sam are going to take Joss, there are some things that need to be taken care of first. I don’t want anyone,” she glanced at the back door, “to contest your right to him.” Casey picked up the thickest stack of papers first. “I had my lawyer draw up some papers showing me giving full custody of Joss to Sam.” She thumbed to a page marked with a cellophane tab with a yellow arrow and the words SIGN HERE. She creased the flipped pages to keep them from closing and pushed the stack toward Sam. “I already signed them. All you have to do, Sam, is sign above your name. Bobby, if you and Dean could sign as witnesses that would be great.”
Dean held out his hands for Joey, snuggling the baby against his chest when he was handed over. Sam picked up the pen, but hesitated, questioning eyes on his brother. Dean nodded his head in encouragement and stroked Joey’s back while Sam penned his name on documents that would make him theirs. Dean shooed off Sam’s attempt to take Joey back so Dean could sign, merely adjusting his hold on the baby and scratching Dean Browning on one of the witness lines. Bobby drug the papers closer and followed suit.
“Good,” Casey murmured distractedly when Bobby slid the papers back to her. She dug through the loose sheets and pulled out a light blue half piece of paper with a dark blue border. In the lower left corner Dean could see the seal for the State of Florida. Sam stared at it for a moment with a half-awed, half-proud smile before turning it for Dean to see. It was Joey’s birth certificate with Sam’s Remington alias printed in bold black letters as Name of Father. He figured that Casey would make Joey’s last name Remington to match Sam’s new identity, but something about seeing Joseph Samuel Remington made Dean’s stomach ache. Tracing a finger over the name, he vowed that Joey would always know that no matter what his birth certificate may say, he was a Winchester.
Casey went over the other sheets, some legal documents that Sam needed to sign and others medical data on Joey and herself - in case they needed her history in the future. When all the papers had been put back in the envelope, Casey addressed the multi-colored checkbooks.
“I took the liberty of setting up some checking accounts for you guys and depositing a little money in them. Most are in both of your names, but a couple are in Joss’ name with y’all listed as the guardians. It should help with the expense of raising a baby.”
“We don’t need your money, Casey,” Dean protested, his pride unwilling to let them accept what it perceived as charity. He had a job lined up and could damn well provide for his family.
“Joss is my son. It would all be his one day anyway. This is my way of ensuring he gets it.” Casey shrugged.
Sam picked up one of the checkbooks and flipping to the register nearly choked on his own spit. He checked the beginning balances of the other accounts to find similar amounts.
“Casey..” He looked at her dumbly, shock evident on his face.
“What’s the matter, Sam?” Dean leaned over concerned and sucked in a harsh breath at the 0s. What the hell? “Casey, where did you get this kind of money?”
Bobby snickered, “They don’t know do they?”
Casey rolled her eyes and shook her head. “My overseas accounts,” she stated simply. “I’m transferring some domestic funds around and liquefying a few assets so there will be more deposits soon.”
Overseas accounts? Assets? More deposits?!
Both brothers were struck speechless. Sam’s mind wheeled. They had a couple thousand dollars in a savings account at the local bank from working while in Florida and it was more money than they’d ever had growing up. What was already in these accounts was more than the budget of several decent sized cities…combined.
“Casey, we can’t take this.” Dean apparently had moved past his shock and gained control of his voice again.
“Yes, you can,” she said firmly. “Look, not that it’s any of your business, but I still have enough in my domestic accounts to offer you and Sam and indecent proposal every night for a month. And that doesn’t take into account what I own in property. Plus Zoe left me enough money to keep in the lap of epicurean luxury for the rest of my life. We fight our whole lives and tend to die young. It doesn’t leave a lot of time for frivolous spending. Just take it. Like I said, it’s all technically Joss’ anyway.”
“Thanks,” Sam mumbled, words feeling inadequate in his mouth.
Casey smiled warmly at him. “Just remember that when tax time rolls around. I’m going to give Joey a bath and put him to bed.” She got up and kissed all three men on the cheek before taking Joey from Dean and heading up the stairs.
Dean and Sam stared at each other with open mouths. Bobby went to the refrigerator and pulled out three bottles of beer. Laughing, he set them on the table and twisted the caps off. He picked up one, tilted the neck in their direction and toasted them. “Here’s to the goddamn Rockefellers of northern Indiana.”
They sat and drank for a long time. Dean describing all the things he could buy now while Sam shot each one down with an admonishment that they weren’t going to ‘Brewster’ away the money. Three beers later while Dean was trying to explain the necessity of a multi-media room, headlights moved across the wall followed by the sound of a large pick-up truck pulling into the drive.
“Sounds like Trotter’s back,” Bobby mumbled.
Sam and Dean considered that their cue and decided it was time to go to bed.
Sam opened his eyes in the darkened room, not sure what had woken him. He looked over at the clock on the nightstand and groaned at the blue display showing 5:14. Disentangling from Dean, he got up and stumbled across the hall to the bathroom. Eyes closed against the moonlight streaming through the window in the hallway, Sam walked with his hand out, hoping he wouldn’t run into the door. A sound pricked his ears and he stopped, wondering if he’d imagined it. There it was again. It took his sleep addled brain a few minutes to figure out it was Joey, through the partially open door to Casey’s room, starting to wake up.
Forcing his eyes open, Sam pushed the door all the way open. Casey’s bed was empty and Joey was moving restlessly in the playpen. Just as Sam reached the side, Joey’s small face contorted, his rose colored bottom lip jutted out, and he let out a piteous wail. Sam leaned over and scooped up his son before his cries got any louder and rocked him in his arms.
“Where’s your Mommy, huh,” Sam cooed soothingly. He pulled a diaper from the bag next to the playpen and laid Joey on the bed to change his pants.
“Sammy?” Dean appeared in the doorway, fists scrubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, Dean. Joey was crying so I was going to change his diaper and get him a bottle. I don’t know where Casey is. I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to bed.” Sam secured the self-adhesive tabs on the sides of the diaper and ran his fingertips lightly over Joey’s exposed stomach. The baby squirmed under the ticklish sensation.
“You didn’t wake me. This did.”
“Huh?” Sam turned to see Dean holding up a small plastic box about the size of a Walkman. “What is that?”
Dean reached under the shade of the lamp on the dresser and flicked the switched, bathing the room in a soft, amber light. On the dresser stood a matching box except this one had a red light in one corner. “I think it’s a baby monitor.”
“Why was there a baby monitor in our room?” Sam snapped the legs of Joey’s onesie, realizing that hearing Joey through the monitor must have woke him up.
“I dunno.” Dean yawned and scratched his stomach. His eyes traveled over the room, hand stilling mid-scratch. Blinking hard to clear away sleep, Dean’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he really looked around the room. Moving quickly, he went to the window and pulled back the curtain. As he passed the dresser, a folded piece of paper fluttered to the ground.
“Casey’s car is gone. So is Trotter’s truck.” Dean turned back to the room to see Sam pick up the paper and unfold it.
“She’s gone.” Sam muttered, then reading aloud. “Please tell him I loved him.”
Chapter 6